Spiderwebbed
by Sorida
Summary: "Jack Frost, you have broken your oath and taken the life of a child. You are hereby banished from the Guardians of Childhood and will live out the remainder of your immortal life in solitude. You will be erased from the memories of children and branded as a traitor for all spirits to see. Have you, Jack Frost, anything to say for yourself?"
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: That's it, I've officially fallen in love with this movie (to the point of screaming at my TV when Brave won the Golden Globe. Seriously, I want RotG to get the Globe and Brave could take the Oscar. RotG wasn't nominated for an Oscar! What the juice is wrong with the world) and everyone in the fandom. Ok, not a huge fan of any ships sailing away out there (next thing you know, we're gonna see Baby Elf…) but I do love the angst. It's freaking delicious.**_

_**Anyways, I've wanted to write a chapter fic for a long time. Ever since Jack stole my heart and never gave it back, I've had this need to absolutely whump him as bad as the Tennant fangirls whump the 10**__**th**__** Doctor. But every story (well-written or not and trust me, I've read too many to count) contain the same basic setup: Pitch returns, shit goes down, Jack is injured, the Guardians feel guilty, everyone's feels are shattered, Jamie somehow ends up in there, and then everyone's a big happy family again.**_

_**There's also a lot revolving around the fact that Jack tends to…kill people inadvertently through hypothermia. There's no good way to say it, is there? It's interesting and continuously being expanded on, but we can totally go farther!**_

_**Culminated from every Jack angst story out there, this idea consists of pretty much every aspect of a typical Jack angst. Hopefully, this turns out a smidgen different from the rest. Maybe…I'm not making promises.**_

_**Great, now I wrote way too much and I'm gonna have to make this first chapter really long. I'm sorry if I've insulted anyone/stolen anyone's idea. At the first sign of plagiarism, please tell me and I'll change/delete the story. If it does happen, know that it was not purposeful or done out of spite.**_

_**To any of you who read through this, I'm sorry this author's note is so long! Hope you guys enjoy the fic!**_

* * *

_I've been around for a long time. I'm not going to lie; it's been lonely and unbearable. Sometimes, when I look back, I just have to wonder how I lived. Or, at least, how I thought I lived._

_Now, I can see how empty that life was. It was cold and dark at every turn and I found myself asking why. Why did the Moon choose me? Why wouldn't he talk to me? Why couldn't anyone see me? Why was I alone? What did I do to deserve this?_

_Why am I sane?_

_The Moon was silent, still is. But I can find the answers now. There are words in the silence and, sometimes, all you have to do is listen. Just…be patient and listen._

…_I think my patience is running out._

_All the questions are returning and I can't stop them. Why now? What did I do to deserve this? Why, when I had everything I had ever longed for, ripped away from me so cruelly? Why can't Pitch just slink back into the shadows like the coward he is and just leave me alone?!_

_Why did I lose my family?_

_Why did I lose my center?_

_Why did I hurt my friends?_

_Why do I have to be Jack Frost?_

* * *

A hooded figure stepped forward in silence.

Someone sighed and broad shoulders sagged under an invisible weight.

Hovering tall, another form continued their harsh glare. They were completely resolute, yet hurt and betrayal could easily be seen in the seemingly stony gaze.

A different set of eyes concealed all emotion. No accusations were made, but no solace could be found.

A large silhouette joined the group. His eyes, once grand blue orbs filled with wonder, were dull and so very saddened. The man hefted an ancient leather-bound book into his arms. His body rumbled as he cleared his throat of dryness and hesitance. With one last look at his comrades, he turned to the guilty. Distressed azure met dead cerulean and though it could be easily missed, a twinge of sympathy was passed from one to the other.

A curt nod came from the right.

No more stalling.

With a heavy heart, the formal procedure commenced.

"Jack Frost," a booming voice echoed, "You have broken your oath by taking the life of a child in cold blood." A hand tightened around rough wood and a pair of eyes clenched shut.

_It was quiet and dark, never a good combination. Everything was dead silent. Nothing moved. His breath was as cold as ever._

_The first sense to come back to him was touch. He could feel a sturdy floor beneath him. The material beneath his hand was too smooth to be soil, but too rigid to be glass. His brain quickly surmised that he was sitting on a wood floor. His bare feet suggested otherwise. Albeit being frosted over, the ground beneath his toes was soft and fuzzy. It was definitely a carpet and a familiar one at that. Out of all the things in the universe, why would a carpet be the most familiar to his frazzled mind?_

_That's when the pain truly hit._

_He gasped and couldn't help but shutter against his body's protests. Everything hurt. His whole body simply ached and refused to comply with the movement he so desperately wanted to achieve. If he was hurt this badly, it meant one of two things. He was either in more trouble than he thought or someone else he cared about was being threatened. Neither option was appealing._

_Still, in order to figure out where he was, he had to figure out what had happened. His eyelids were objecting to the command to open and felt as though they were weighed down by three ton weights. No sounds met his ears beyond his own frigid breath rushing to and from his lungs. Besides, the blood pounding through his eardrums prevented him from hearing anything beyond the functions of his body. Well, wasn't that useful?_

_Taste proved to be a dead end. His mouth just felt dry and no matter how many times he tried swallowing his own saliva, it obstinately remained desiccated. His head was throbbing with every beat of his heart. Despite the fact that his eyes were firmly clamped shut, dizziness and nausea swept over him. He mused sullenly that the two went hand in hand. Where there was one, you could find the other not too far behind._

_Suddenly, the sharp odor of copper rushed through his nose. He recognized that smell as quickly as a certain Guardian recognized that a platter of his favorite sugar cookies were just around the corner. That familiar metallic scent was one he was far too acquainted with. Every encounter he'd had with a less than friendly spirit ended in this. Sometimes, a brisk spar with Bunny would lead to this. A bad run-in with a bear always left this in its wake. He could smell blood. Cold blood._

_But the worst part…the blood wasn't his._

_So he did the one thing that he could, acted upon the single thought overtaking his mind._

_He panicked._

"You are hereby stripped of your title as a Guardian of Childhood and will be banished from every realm across the spirits' world." The eyes remained closed, ears taking in the sounds around him. The voice of a former friend reverberated through his mind. Bones in a hand popped as fists curled tighter than could be imagined. Shifting sand and fur shuffled against the wood floor. His harsh breathing was inaudible to all but him.

His fear was now a reality.

He couldn't care less.

He deserved it.

_Fierce blue eyes flew open accompanied by a gasp. Whether the sharp intake of air was from shock or pain was debatable. The answer would never be found, for it wasn't important._

_Horrified irises took in the peripheral scene. Furniture was overturned and ruined, pieces of fluffy stuffing and light bird feathers littering the floor. An upright brass lamp had fallen over, the bulb shattering on impact. Two smaller lamps shared the same fate, glass glittering menacingly from the hardwood floor. Only one stream of light entered the room. The artificial beam was provided by a streetlight behind his head. The false golden hue shone through the window, providing just enough brightness for the boy to observe the scene before him._

_Without a second thought, pale hands pushed an equally pale body to its feet. The boy staggered slightly and stumbled, clutching a nearby coffee table to break his fall. Subconsciously, his left hand tightened around a long, crooked branch. He gasped, regaining his breath before dread pushed him onwards._

_In the poor lighting, Jack surveyed the scene once more. A large green couch had been overturned, white fuzz popping out of its cushions' seams. Deep scratches marred the neatly polished cabinet to the left and the TV within it would no longer bring joy (or distraction) to the room. A chair in the corner had a bad fight with the wall, streaking grey against the previously white paint. His toes curled on the linen beneath him, a nervous habit developed through anxiety and decades within forests. If he tried, he could imagine the bright reds and yellows of a temperate forest. He could feel twigs and branches snap beneath his feet and leaves crunch at even the softest touch. He could hear his frost crackle behind him, providing a trail to his current location. He could envision the wind caressing his face, the constant through centuries of isolation, as loose leaves dropped from their perches above his head. He would catch one, marveling at how tough it had been through the year and how fragile it could be during the fall._

_After his deliberations, he would remember that he had a job to do and begin spreading his frost. Grey clouds would gather above his head, indicating a light dusting of snow. No dark storm clouds would make an appearance. His clouds were more iridescent, allowing the impeded sun to spread its light but not its warmth. His clouds were bright with a dash of grey. Thunder clouds were dark and ominous._

_Jack Frost was not dark and ominous. Jack Frost was not a grumpy old man. Jack Frost was not malicious blizzard waiting to strike a helpless community of humans trying desperately to stay warm._

_No, Jack Frost was a benevolent spirit. Jack Frost was an animated young boy. Jack Frost was nothing more than a flurry drifting on a winter's breeze. Why people thought otherwise was beyond his comprehension._

_Yet, as he gazed at the dark pool of scarlet staining the once pristine carpet, he was beginning to doubt the innocence he represented._

_His previous distractions were flushed from his mind, musings overtaken by worry. He knew why everything seemed so familiar, why he subconsciously knew where he was upon regaining coherent thought. He tried to deny it, but he couldn't dispute cold hard facts._

_The damp red spot, once obscured by a splintered tabletop, was enough to send Jack into a frenzy of emotions. Questions and answers flew through his mind faster than he could fly on the wind._

_Where was he?_

_Jamie's house._

_Why was he there?_

_Judging by the black sand sprinkled across the carpet, he was there because Pitch Black had been._

_Why was Pitch there?_

_He most likely wanted revenge on Jamie for still believing in the Guardians during his golden hour. That was over two years ago. Jamie still believed. Pitch still held grudges. Put two and two together and you get four._

_What was he doing there?_

_Jamie's his best friend, so he was obviously trying to protect him._

_Whose blood was on the floor?_

…_It certainly wasn't his, for he left his own red smears beneath the window sill._

_Oh, Man in the Moon, please let it be a nightmare…_

"You will be erased from the memories of children and branded as a traitor for all to see." It was kind of ironic how all would see his brand except for those who mattered. He wasn't a danger to spirits. They could take care of themselves and defend their homes in case he came along. No, the children needed protection. From him.

They had always needed protection from him.

_His breathing picked up as he hobbled over to the damp patch. Dropping to his knees, he caught sight of something he never wished to see. Turning his body away, he retched. He tried to focus on the burning pain flooding through his esophagus. He coughed and sputtered as he willed the acidic bile past his lips. Tooth wouldn't like this at all. It would ruin his perfect teeth._

_Tooth…_

…

_Tooth!_

_Whirling his body around, Jack caught sight of bright teal, yellow, and blue plumage. Tooth was just unconscious. He breathed a sigh of relief, but it was short lived when he turned back to the other figure on the floor._

_Jamie was deathly pale, rivaling Jack's skin tone. Short, panicked breaths escaped Jack's lips. His hands wavered uselessly in the air, as if trying to decide whether or not to hold the child close or keep away to prevent frostbite. Hopeful blue eyes were trained on the boy's small chest. He willed the boy to breathe and pushed down the mounting fear, letting hope flood his mind._

_The body didn't move. It was then that Jack noticed the child's brown eyes._

_The kid's eyes were open, staring into the void of a whitewashed wall. Gripping the boy's face, Jack probed the soulless russet irises for any sign of life. Instead, he saw a question._

"_Why?" they seemed to ask._

"_Why what?" Jack whispered, holding back tears. Eyes only questioned when the voice couldn't, when the voice was dead. The voice was dead when the movement died. The movement died with the heart. The heart was dead when you couldn't see the life behind the eyes, when the eyes were soulless._

_Why?_

"_Why, indeed Jack." The boy's head snapped towards the shadows. There was no mistaking the smooth, callous voice calling to him from the corner of the room where no light touched. His hand tightened around the staff that never left his side._

"You will live out the remainder of your life in isolation with little to no contact with other spirits."

Isolation would hurt more the second time because he would know what he lost. Amnesia was a mercy compared to this. Maybe it wasn't too late to thank the Moon for it…or pray for MiM to take his memories again.

"_Get out!" he shouted in anger. A powerful stream of frost shot towards the shadows, only to collide with the wall. Infuriated, Jack rose to his feet. "What are you doing here?" he growled._

"_Well, that's no way to greet the person who tried to stop your heinous crime," Pitch spat back, materializing behind the teen. "I was going to explain what happened, but I guess you don't want to know." Jack turned to face him._

"_What did you do Pitch?" His voice was bestial and his glare even more so. The Boogeyman took a startled step backwards._

"_Why do you always assume it's something I've done?" he asked. "Do you believe yourself so high and mighty that you can just go around accusing other of your actions? I may not have the most righteous past, but it's nothing compared to what you've done today." Jack stiffened._

"…_I don't know what you're talking about."_

"_I guess you hit your head harder than I thought," Pitch sighed. It was weird. The man looked slightly distraught and disgusted. "You don't remember?" Jack shook his head. "Well, I usually love being the bearer of bad news but I think I'll leave this one to sweet little Toothiana." Sarcasm was evident, but the disgust remained. "Just remember Jack: I would never physically hurt a child, let alone go as far as you have."_

"_What did you do?" Jack asked in horror. All anger drained from his mind and pure horror took its place. He didn't care if Pitch was having the feast of his life. All that mattered was what happened in the blank part of his brain where a memory should have been._

"_No Jack," Pitch shook his head with a chuckle. "What have you done?"_

_And then it all came back._

"Have you, Jack Frost, anything to say for yourself?"

All attention was given to the lithe teenager. He remained silent.

_There was an icicle and a lot of anger. He remembered a fight and Pitch and Jamie screaming at him. He remembered Tooth, flying through window and yelling at him. There was a nightmare and swirling black sand and falling…falling against the wall._

_There was pain and suffering and screaming. There was blood and chaos and insanity. There was snow and cold and frost and death. There was fear and darkness and dread. There was no redemption._

"_Jack," a soft, trembling voice spoke. "What did you do?"_

_He didn't have the courage to look Tooth in the eye. There was no writing this off as one of Pitch's cruel nightmares. No, this was reality._

_When the Guardian of Memories remembered such a horrible incident, then it happened. No if, ands, or buts._

_Jack Frost was no longer a Guardian._

"I'm sorry Jamie." Jack's broken voice couldn't fix his crime.

He killed a child. That child was Jamie.

He killed his best friend.

He wanted to be punished and it looked like this was the best way.

"Jack Frost, you are no longer the Guardian of Fun. The title and position can never be returned to you." Despite the complete lack of emotion in his voice, North's heart was shattering. As he grabbed the cool end of the twisted iron rod, he closed his eyes. He couldn't do it. He couldn't brand Jack.

He couldn't hurt the child he'd grown to love.

As if sensing his discomfort, a small hand landed on his shoulder. Looking up, North met Tooth's determined gaze. There was a fire behind her violet eyes that he'd never seen before. Out of all of the Guardians, Tooth hurt the most.

She turned the products of her hurt into a mask.

"Give it to me," she commanded softly. Instead of the friendly, bubbly Tooth Fairy, North saw the fearless leader of the fairy armies. She was a battle-hardened commander who had just been through the strain of combat. She would do what she believed was right and nobody would stand in her way.

Not even Jack Frost.

Taking the rod from North's hand, Tooth glided over to Jack. Although she was hit full-force with the boy's terrified blue eyes, she did not choke under the pressure. "Which hand is your dominant hand?" she asked quickly. Hesitantly, Jack held up his left. "Give me your right hand." A small mercy would be shown to the traitor once housed as their own. North was grateful.

Jack silently extended his hand. He deserved this, deserved the searing pain that was about to come. Without warning, the bright orange brand came down on his hand. He couldn't stop the scream that ripped out of his throat.

The burning was nothing like he could have ever imagined. His entire arm felt way too hot and way too cold. It wasn't natural. He didn't know when the metal was removed until frozen blood crackled against the pale skin of his hand. Morbid curiosity gripped his mind as he examined the burn.

The brand was a heptagon in reference to his previous hexagonal symbol. Intricately spread across it was different languages. His stomach dropped as he found letters he could read. It didn't take a genius to know that every other language clump translated to the same thing.

_Traitor._

Every letter and symbol surrounded a central picture. Jack gagged once he realized what the image was.

There was a dead child forever branded upon his hand.

Tears trickled down his cheeks as his forehead met the grooved wood of his staff. How would he live with himself? What would happen to him?

Could spirits die?

"Now," North began, walking back into the Globe Room. When had he left? Jack noticed a scroll in his hand. "We will erase children's memories of you. Jack Frost will be nothing more than an expression to them." One Guardian couldn't take it anymore. Guilt was mounting in his mind and nothing could stop it. If he was going to say something, try to alleviate the situation for the young spirit, it had to be now.

"Wait a minute!" Every head turned towards Bunny's outburst. His paws were in the air in a halting expression, his green eyes scrunched in irritation and confusion. "I'd like to call upon the Unanimous Rule that someone," he glared at North, "created after the fiasco in 1876. If one Guardian disagrees with a ruling, then he or she may suggest another. I say we give Frostbite a choice. He can either leave now and deal with losing the kids farther away from here or stay and feel every unbearable moment of it. The larger the distance from the Pole, the less pain he feels." It was a test, one that Jack couldn't possibly decipher at the moment. His mind was too overwhelmed, shocked, and guilt-ridden to see the underlying meaning in anything.

"Very well, I agree with Bunny," North grumbled. Sandy gave a quick nod. Tooth sighed in defeat.

"Well Frostbite," he said as he put a large paw on the teen's shoulder. He couldn't help but notice when the younger spirit flinched under his touch. "The window's over there."

Jack looked at the Pooka and then to the circular window above the globe. If he left now, what good would it do? Nothing would prolong the inevitable. No amount of running would ease the mounting guilt. He realized that he deserved his fate. In fact, he was almost craving the pain now. He rubbed the newly created brand on his left hand. The burning agony from the heated metal didn't seem to hurt enough. He needed more. He hadn't been punished enough yet. The injuries from the fight with Pitch weren't severe enough and, damn it, he needed to be punished. Clenching his jaw, he clutched his staff and stood tall.

"I'm staying," was his simple reply. Despite the sadness welling up within Sandy's heart, he knew that Jack had passed Bunny's test. Maybe the Pooka had a valid point. Maybe…maybe everything wasn't as it seemed to be.

North shattered his musings. Parchment scroll in hand, the man cast the boy a final pitying glance. The boy responded by lowering his head, trying to make himself smaller in the other's eye. Another sigh escaped North's lips as he unrolled the list. Everybody faced the globe in apprehension.

"Cupcake."

Losing the first child hurt more than Jack could have ever imagined. Clutching his staff close, he stifled his screams into muffled whimpers. He could feel Cupcake forget his existence, feel her lose belief.

He could feel the abandonment and, after 300 years, it hurt. _It hurt._

"Pippa."

Another invisible hand ripped something out of his soul, out of his center. In that moment, Jack knew he could never be whole again. Even if some miracle proved him innocent, he would never be the same. A tear escaped from the corner of his eye.

"Caleb."

His breath became short. He gasped, trying his best to remain standing. He could get through the pain. He'd been abandoned before.

But that abandonment had been conscious. This was forced.

It hurt even more.

"Monty."

He stopped listening by then. Everything burned. He was kneeling now, desperately trying to catch his breath. He could feel the eyes on his back. He barely registered Bunny's paw on his shoulder, the one form of comfort anyone had offered to him since his return to Santoff Clausen.

Even though only a handful of kids believed in him, losing every single one of them was pure agony. By the end of it, he felt light-headed and nauseous. The wounds he received while fighting Pitch were nothing compared to his damaged center. That's when it really hit him.

He was no longer a Guardian.

He had no friends.

He was alone again and, this time, it would stay that way.

Before anyone could stop him, Jack ripped himself away from Bunny's loose grip. The Pooka was startled and could only watch as the boy flew out the window. In a flurry of snow, he was gone. Bunny cursed himself for missed opportunities. He cursed himself for not rationalizing sooner.

"We should have waited," he growled under his breath. Sandy floated over to his comrade, agreement shining clear in his golden eyes. "He didn't need to experience that, not without us being absolutely sure." Tooth gave an indignant huff.

"Bunny, I'm sorry to burst your bubble, but this was the only thing we could do. To break the oath that severely is unheard of." She sighed. "It was the only thing we could do…" she repeated, as if trying to convince herself as well.

"But what if we're wrong?" He couldn't help but ask, not after what happened last time they doubted Jack.

"Do you not believe me?" Tooth asked with an incredulous giggle. "Do you not trust me?"

"Of course I trust you! But-"

"I was there!" she exclaimed, cutting off the startled spirit. "Bunny, I remember! I remember what happened! I couldn't believe it and I didn't want to believe it, but there's no arguing with facts! Jack stabbed Jamie!" Tooth exclaimed, tears forming in her eyes. "There's nothing more to it."

"Why?" Bunny challenged.

"...Because Jack lost control," Tooth replied with a sigh. "We all knew it was a miracle that Jack managed to get through three centuries alone with his mind somewhat intact. But last night, last night was awful. Pitch was there and tried to give Jamie a nightmare. Jack arrived not too long after that and the two started fighting. From what Baby Tooth told me, it escalated into an incredible display of power. But then, Pitch said some things...horrible things and Jack...Jack went crazy.

"I showed up when Jack was chasing down Pitch with an icicle in his hand. He kept shouting something about a lake and a belt. I didn't know what it meant, but I flew over and tried to get things under control. But...Jamie thought he could stop Jack. The boy didn't want his best friend to become a killer. He...Jack stabbed him without hesitation. Pitch was the one who knocked him out. He must have been scared because he threw some nightmare sand at me and fled. Next thing I know, I see Jack apologizing to Jamie..." She couldn't continue her recollection. "Jack's mentally unstable, more so than we originally thought. We're just doing what's best for the kids. If they can't interact with him, then they won't get hurt. The other elemental spirits will keep him from doing anything more than bringing winter."

"Toothiana, think about it," the Pooka whispered. "Does that really sound like him? We all know Frostbite gets mad, but would he really sink as low as to kill a kid?" Bunny's voice grew steadily louder. "He's dedicated his life to protecting children just like the rest of us! Do you think he'd just throw that all away?"

"Bunny, you didn't see him. He let himself lose control and he was insane. Not in the funny way, in the scary way. Nobody could talk sense into him. After so long in isolation, it's a wonder he could hold a civilized conversation with us! Jack is dangerous and history has supported that time and time again. You can't keep defending him!" Tooth shouted, unable to contain her anguish. She was scared and that led to anger which led to hatred towards Jack. That anger and hatred was now turned on Bunnymund. When the Pooka didn't give an immediate answer, she continued.

"He admitted it himself! He remembers what happened exactly the same way I do! Why are you convinced he's not guilty?"

"I'm not saying he's not guilty, I'm just saying that maybe we don't have all the information. Maybe we jumped to conclusions and put the poor kid through trauma he didn't need. Maybe we were wrong, just like Easter!"

Tooth fluttered around his head, exasperation written clearly over her face. "Why are you taking his side?" she shouted, voice booming across the Globe Room.

"Because as long as there's hope, I'm gonna stand by the kid!" Bunny shouted. His eyes wandered across blue, violet, and gold. With a sigh, green orbs drifted towards the window. Not a snowflake stirred. No blizzard was coming tonight.

Jack wasn't coming back to the North Pole.

* * *

_**A/N: Thanks for reading! Sorry, I can write accents as well as I fake them. Basically, I can't write accents for my life. :3 Also, I hope Tooth and Bunny's slight OOC-ness was explained. In my mind, after the Easter disaster, Bunny would be the one to not doubt Jack's intentions.**_


	2. Chapter 2

Small, pure white snowflakes fell from the clouds. They swayed in the breeze, spinning and swirling in a mystifying dance with one another. No mortal would hear their joyous laughter or experience their playful demeanor. Snowflakes kept to themselves, always welcoming the company of their own kind but shy of others. They fell to the ground, lying on the cold dark asphalt like fine confectionary sugar. Millions before them had melted away into microscopic puddles, but they were ignorant to the fact. The ones who had perished made it cold enough for their kin to land safely. That in itself was enough to keep the snowflakes happy. They knew that, had it been them, they would have offered their younger generation the same protection from the once far too warm ground. Family was family, no matter how long you knew them.

For those nestled within the cracks of the sidewalks and the nooks of the roof, they silently fell asleep on a mild winter's night. Other soon followed in a lazy game of sardines, hundreds packing into less than a centimeter of space. The ones in the air continued their waltz, growing excited as they felt an approaching cold wind. However, they were shocked when their wielder sped by without a second glance in their direction. He left thousands confused in his wake, interrupting their dance. They were shocked and a little scared as they were ripped away from their partners. In vain, they called out to their companions, their immediate family, but many found themselves too far away. They drifted down, down onto the pavement and rooftops and car hoods. As they landed meters away from the ones they had known since their brief creation, they cried out for the ones they lost. Their anguish was lost among the new generation, gently falling in a waltz of their own.

However, even as he flew farther and farther away from the flurries, Jack heard them. Every single cry of despair and longing rang through his head. He knew what they felt like, understood their pain, and wished for nothing more than to fix it. No matter how many times he flew through a dusting, he would and could never forget the sound of loneliness. Some days, he hovered above his fallen snowflakes and whispered apologies. He would apologize for making them experience a taste of his isolation for he would never wish it upon anyone, even his worst enemy. He spoke to them in a low voice, whispering soothing and broken phrases to ones long since buried by the snowfall. For the longest time, he longed for someone to hold him and whisper those sweet nothings to him. He wished for someone to tell him that he belonged, that he had a family, and they would never leave him. Well, the Guardians had given him that family.

And then it was cruelly ripped away.

Ignoring his stinging hand, Jack willed his tears away and flew onwards. He needed to move, to leave, to never look back and to never stop. If he did, then the pain would destroy him. The past would crash into the present and destroy the future. He needed to forget, but he stopped himself. Forgetting would mean turning his back on Jamie. He would be betraying his best friend, the one he broke in both mind and body. No, he needed to remember how everything spiraled out of control, how he lost everything over the course of a few hours.

_Laughter wafted through the town as grumpy adults and teenagers received phone calls at the ungodly hour of 6:30 AM. Upon hearing the message, every teen happily went back to sleep with two words echoing in their heads: Snow Day. Jack gave a mischievous smirk as small clumps of white fell and continued to coat the area. He was floating over the rooftops, simply enjoying the sight of his creation sparkling under the artificial light of the lampposts. Looking up, he could see the stars flickering through his clouds. A strong gust of wind nudged threw him off balance, forcing him to maneuver to the right. With a chuckle, he shook his head. The Wind obviously wanted him to go somewhere else._

"_Alright," he said as the Wind pushed him higher into the sky. "Where to next?" Without hesitation, the breeze keeping him aloft became a strong burst of air. The force propelled him high above the clouds and tossed him to and fro. He laughed as the Wind sent him on its own path. Extending his arms, he tilted his head back and just immersed himself in his flight. Pure freedom engulfed his very being as he soared across the night sky. Bathed in moonlight, Jack ran a hand through the clouds. On the other side, small flurries began to fall on the Himalayas._

_He let the Wind guide him across the globe. It spun him, dipped him through the clouds, and caressed him lovingly. It never lost him or dropped him. The Wind was a close friend, a sibling, and Jack trusted it with all his heart. Three centuries only strengthened the bond._

_There had been a time where Jack was afraid of the Wind. About a week after rising from the ice, he tried to control his flight. At that time, he believed he could control the archaic force of nature. That was his first mistake. The second was actually restraining the Wind. He channeled whatever magic he could muster into manipulating the air current. He hovered above the thick lake ice for half a minute before being thrust upwards. He had screamed as sharp branches carved lines into the skin on his arms. He felt fear as he rose above the conifers and absolute terror when he was sent freefalling towards the translucent surface._

_He remembered the cracks spiderwebbing from the epicenter of the impact. His powers had naturally frosted over them, leaving hairline streaks below the icy layer. Pain radiated through his body and he remembered apologizing. He cried and apologized to the Wind even though it sounded utterly ridiculous at the time. He said something about being alone and wanting a friend. He explained that he was just curious and didn't realize that the Wind kept him above the ground rather than his magic. He whimpered every time he tried to move and asked for help when he couldn't make it more than a few millimeters. He resigned to lying on the ice when he remembered that he was invisible. All he could do was trace the miniature fissures under their thin covering and wait for something to happen. He waited for what felt like hours, whispering brokenly to himself about random things in order to keep his mind away from the pain._

_That's when he felt it._

_Something tickled his ear and ghosted through his hair. It sent shivers down his back, but he didn't dislike the feeling. In fact, it comforted him. The ministration continued and Jack could feel himself smiling. He let out a hoarse laugh as his cloak fluttered in the breeze. The Wind softly flew by his ear again and he heard its apology. For a minute, he believed himself insane. But the Wind didn't stop. It tried to pick him up again, encouraged him to stand and try once more. Despite the agony, he shakily climbed to his feet. Leaning against his staff, he broke out in a triumphant smile as the Wind danced in joy around him. It had thought that it killed him, harmed him beyond recognition. It only wanted to scare him a little and prove itself a stronger force than the new winter spirit. In its prideful actions, it had gone too far._

_After weeks spent curled up in a snow bank, he and the Wind worked together as partners. When the weather got too warm, it flew him to other places in need of snow. It showed him the wonder of Santoff Claussen and the sequestered Antarctica. It took him to different cities and countries. It showed him its favorite caves where they could just shout at nothing and have the rocks yell back. They played and laughed and their friendship blossomed. Yet through it all, the Wind never forgot when it purposely dropped the child and the shame that went with it. It promised to never do such a thing again. In return, Jack trusted it with his life._

_As he glided through the air, he thanked the Wind once again. The Wind would never abandon him and when he fell, it would always catch him. It would always find a way to make things work and it would always, always, find a way to talk to him._

He raced through the clouds without caring for the landscape beneath him. In this part of the world, no snow fell, no frost decorated the windows and no ice coated the ground. It was a week to Christmas and still no sign of winter. Thousands of thought flew across Jack's mind as he tightened the grip on his staff. Unanswered questions and old demons burst through the floodgates and overran every happy memory he had gained. Why him? Why did he lose control like that? Why did it happen to the person who believed in him the most?

The Wind tried to comfort him. It pushed him through the skies, across time zones. There wasn't a set destination in mind, travelling only for the journey. It tried to distract him with playful gestures, by ruffling his hair and tugging on the strings of his hoodie. Nothing got through to the boy, its beloved little brother, and the Wind felt failure. In its last attempt at comfort, a quiet whistle blew past Jack's ear. A simple melodious tune with no rhyme or rhythm was all the Wind could offer. Jack sighed in response and urged the Wind to go faster. That's how this all started. An innocent little whistle turned his world into a nightmare. But he would never blame the Wind for what happened.

No, he would always blame himself. He always had and he always will.

_There was a whisper in his ear. It was nothing more than a zephyr, a murmur lost in the crowd. But Jack knew the Wind. He knew when it was happy and when it was sad. He knew how it loved to send him on wild rides across the world, letting him surf on the updraft of its playfulness. He knew it wasn't fond of others trying to tame it like a caged lion. The Wind was a roaming spirit, a wanderer in a sense. The Wind went where it wanted to go and when to go. Nobody told the Wind what to do. So when the ignorant elemental came along and demanded that the Wind carry it, Jack could only watch with amused eyes as the spirit was chased away or crashed into a tree. He would laugh, the Wind joining his mirth in a silent chuckle. It tossed leaves around lightly, made the branches sway with its joy. Jack knew the Wind and the Wind knew Jack._

_It was only natural that Jack learned its language._

_The tickling gust sent to his ear would have been brushed off by anyone else. Many would swat at an invisible bug. Others would snap at the Wind, telling it to leave them alone. Jack was the only one who could understand the gesture for what it was. It was a message, a harbinger of the sorts. Something was off. Something just wasn't right in the world._

_He could almost hear the voiceless words. In the back of his mind, the implication was clear. His playful flight ceased as dread filled the pit of his stomach. The Wind was distressed, rushing past his ears in a desperate manner. It was speaking frantically, not knowing what to make of its information. "Hey, slow down," Jack spoke softly as he swallowed his own anxiety. "What's wrong?" As the Wind brushed past him again, he immediately darted off in the direction of Burgess. Concern and worry urged him to increase his speed. Cities and time zones flashed by as Jack made his way to the United States, the Wind's proclamation fresh in his mind._

_Pitch was with Jamie._

_Moments later, he was nose-diving to the boy's house. The Wind sent a powerful draft to stop him before slamming into the bedroom window. Peering inside, Jack noticed nobody was there. Before he could complain or protest, a gust sent him to the ground. He wobbled as he gained his balance, looking through the living room window by chance. A gasp escaped his lips as soon as he saw the Nightmare King leering over the small brown haired child. Without a second thought, Jack sprinted to the front door and burst through the entryway. The door had been slightly ajar and unlocked, a worrying combination._

_Tearing around the corner of the hallway, his staff crackled with energy. Brilliant blue frost decorated the shepherd's crook as Jack fired a warning shot at the shadows. "Jamie!" he shouted, darting over to the boy._

"_I told you he'd come!" Jamie taunted Pitch, sticking his tongue out in the process. "I'm not afraid of you!" Pitch ignored the child, turning his attention to the teenager instead._

"_A little on the tardy side, aren't you?" he said with a disapproving gaze. "North wouldn't be proud." His response was a powerful blast of frost to the face. Unfortunately for Jack, Pitch had dropped into the shadows on the floor milliseconds before the attack could hit. Positioning himself protectively in front of Jamie, Jack eyed the shadows warily. Multiple wisps took false swipes at the pair, prompting Jack to fire off a stream of ice at nothing more than a wall. His eyes widened as, one by one, the light bulbs in the lamps burst. Glass exploded from underneath the lampshades and while most of the blast was absorbed by the material, Jack threw himself over Jamie as the shards pelted his back. As soon as the stinging stopped, the winter spirit spun around. The room was nearly pitch black, a beam of light entering the front window from a streetlamp._

"_Brave little Jack Frost is here to save an insignificant brat. How touching," Pitch's voice echoed from the darkness. Neither boy knew where the source of the voice was coming from, but Jack didn't let that bother him. Instead, he planted a smirk on his face._

"_You might want to think about who you insult," Jack replied smoothly. "That 'insignificant brat' is the reason why you're stuck haunting the floorboards beneath kids' beds. If you're not careful, kids will have to start calling their moms to vacuum out the Demon Dust Bunny." Jamie snickered. Somewhere in the darkness, Pitch frowned._

"_Petty work? Incredibly so. Rewarding? Well, it's enough to make the boy's life a living nightmare."_

"_Not while I'm here," Jack scoffed. "You've got no chance of getting to Jamie." There was a pause and, for a moment, Jack assumed Pitch had fled before he could sustain any injury. But then, he felt something slither behind him._

"_Who said anything about Jamie?" Jack jumped and spun. The voice had been right next to his ear. He barely caught a glimpse of Pitch slinking back into the darkness as Jamie struggled to recover from his panic attack. "I remember your sister," Pitch stated. Jack flung his head to the right and left, hands tightening their grip on his conduit._

"_Don't lie to me," Jack snapped._

"_I'm not. Her fear was just cascading off of her. It was a wonderful meal. The fear of death is one of the most powerful and common among mortals. The fear of immediately dying is even more so. She had condemned herself to death already, asking for forgiveness and uttering useless apologies. Your fear for her safety was just as grand…as well as your foresight."_

"_Shut up," he muttered through clenched teeth. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a mini-fairy dart away from the window. Tooth would be on her way soon. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he needed help. This wasn't a show of strength; it was a show of endurance. Pitch was hitting all the pressure points and Jack's walls were crumbling. When this was all over, he'd thank Tooth for the help and insist that he could've handled it on his own. Everything would go back to normal. But now, he could only pray that Tooth got to him before something bad happened._

"_You knew someone would die that day," Pitch continued as he stalked around his prey. "So why not say goodbye to Jackson Overland? He hardly worked in the village and was a nuisance to all but the children. Oh, how Jackson Overland loved to play! His mother said that his antics would get him killed one of these days. Can you believe how true she was? It was your idea to ice skate and your idea killed you. Do you know what happened to your sister? Naturally, she blamed herself and cried herself to sleep every night. Come spring, nobody could find the body of Jackson Overland and her tears continued to fall. In fact, the whole family was never the same again."_

"_Shut up!" Jack shouted as he slammed his staff on the floor. Frost crawled up the walls of the room and Jamie shivered. Pitch merely laughed._

"_Why do you care? You're not Jackson Overland. Why, you're Jack Frost! You're the one who brings winter and fun, cold and death. You're the one pretending to be a Guardian of Childhood. You're the one who still doesn't understand or remember your past. You make a mess of everything and wonder why you can't change. How many times has North scolded you? How long has Bunnymund yelled at you? When has anyone ever praised you for creating a blizzard or thanked you for snow? No one does because it brings coldness and fear."_

"_That's not true!" Jamie shouted, glaring at the wall. He turned to Jack and smiled. "Snowballs and fun times, right?" Before Jack could respond, something hard collided with his body. He was thrown over the couch with enough force to knock it over. The air was forcefully expelled from his lungs and he felt a pair of hands pinning his arms above his head. He struggled to suck in a deep breath as his captor leaned over his face._

"_The boy may have a point, but you've always been a troublesome child," Pitch stated. Wood clashing against a wall broke through Jack's harsh breaths. A soft buzzing soon followed. "What would your father say about your behavior?"_

_He barely registered the nightmare sand ramming into his temple._

_He gasped as old and new memories flashed before his eyes. He saw a man with a strip of leather slamming the item into a young boy's back. He saw a blizzard devastate the East Coast, leaving so many families freezing and trapped in powerless homes. His back stung with phantom pain and his mind rebelled at his past actions. He watched as the Titanic sank, hearing the voices of parents comforting their children before the frigid seawater could take them prisoner. There was so much despair, so much death, and Jack couldn't handle it._

_Without thinking straight, he threw Pitch off of him. Abandoning his staff, a lone icicle formed in his hand. He willed the point to grow sharper as he imagined it tearing into grey flesh. A sinister grin adorned his features as he locked eyes with the Nightmare King. Pitch Black was going to die tonight._

_All morals and hesitations were left behind as Jack leapt at the bewildered spirit. Pitch disappeared into the shadows as Jack stabbed his weapon downwards. "Never mention him again!" he shouted in rage._

"_Jack, calm down!" a feminine voice called out. He promptly ignored it as he spotted Pitch trying to materialize. He rushed over to the far corner of the room, knocking down a lamp in the process._

"_I was human and I made mistakes," Jack yelled as he missed the Boogeyman yet again. "My dad punished me for them! No matter how hard I tried to please him, it would always end with his belt! He was never proud of me!" His head swiveled in all directions, not registering Tooth cradling Jamie in her arms. "How dare you bring that up?! Don't remind me of my faults! You don't know what 300 years does to someone! I talked to snowdrifts and trees just to keep myself from going completely insane! Do you like to see me insane? You caused this!" He didn't really know who he was yelling at anymore. Names and faces kept flashing through his mind: the Moon, Pitch, his father, the Guardians…_

"_We need to stop this," Pitch whispered to Tooth from the shadows. With a muffled yelp, she came face-to-face with the Nightmare King. She raised an eyebrow skeptically, pulling Jamie closer to her feathered torso. Even through the stress of witnessing a mentally unstable Jack, she managed to pull off a venomous glare._

"_Why didn't you think about that before now?" she quipped. "Have you ever heard of PTSD?"_

"_Of course I have! I don't always live under a rock!" Pitch snapped. "But this is out of hand. How was I supposed to know that 300 years would cause this? I understand Jack as much as the rest of you do. He's good at hiding." Just as Tooth was about to comment on the Guardians' progress with unraveling the enigma of Jack Frost, Pitch added, "Don't kid yourself. How much do you really know?" Her protestations fell dead on her lips._

_Before either of them could initiate a plan to stop Jack, the winter spirit caught the last of their exchange. Hurt emanated from his eyes, but was quickly replaced with rage. "You're all against me. I knew I couldn't trust anyone!" Fear flashed through his dilated pupils. "You're trying to get rid of me…you'd rather listen to him than me!" Jack lunged towards the trio and ripped the male away from the group. He tossed the body through the air, letting it smash against the second lamp in the room. Stalking over to his victim, he finally thrust his icicle into solid flesh._

_Screams tore from his quarry's throat as the shard came down again and again. Blood coated pale hands and soon ran in rivulets onto the floor. Before the body beneath him grew still, Jack gazed into fearful brown eyes. As the final breath left the body, the eyes asked him one question._

_Why?_

_Jack's pupils shrunk as he recognized that particular shade of russet. He was transported back to the thin lake ice, staring into his sister's apprehensive gaze. The familiar brunette bangs, the rounded face, the child-like innocence…_

_A wall of nightmare sand crashed into his body, slamming him into the wall below the window. Outside, he could vaguely hear the Wind howling in desperation. Through bleary eyes, he watched the same happen to Tooth as Pitch took his leave. His body ached with bruised ribs and a concussion. However, he willed himself to stay conscious for as long as possible. Staring at the area just behind the couch, he felt dread fill his body just as quickly as the oncoming blackness. As his eyes fluttered shut, one thought raced through his cracked mind._

_He murdered Jamie Bennett._

Jack shook his head violently. Why'd he do it? Why couldn't he gain control over himself?

He urged the Wind to push him faster, not daring to look down at the familiar roofs and forests. A pang of homesickness flared through his heart, nearly making him nosedive to his lake. He would have loved nothing more than to curl up on the smooth ice and let his frost patterns decorate where he lay. Perhaps he'd cry for Jamie and try to block out the memory with snowballs and fun times. Maybe he'd just sit there and stare at the heinous design imprinted on his hand. He would probably shout and slam his staff into random rocks and create a snowstorm. Yet when he realized what he had done, he would stop and let everything come back to haunt him. He would let every negative emotion sink in, permit the abandonment and hatred to run rampant in his mind because, in the end, he deserved it all. And then he would shut down and lament and try to apologize because _Jamie never deserved any of this_. Sophie didn't deserve to lose her brother.

And that's why Jack could never return to Burgess.

When he became a Guardian, he promised to protect all children. He swore to never let a family feel the pain of losing their child. While it was a huge undertaking that couldn't always be accomplished, he made it personal for the Bennetts. The siblings inadvertently helped him regain his memories. They reminded him so much of the days long since passed, a time where everything was easier and harder. He remembered working with his father, his mother making arrangements for a summer marriage, and playing with his sister. He had entertained children around campfires and taught his sister everything he knew about having fun. His oath as a Guardian required that he do the same for every child.

But now, he had hurt the one he had sworn with his life to protect. The wounds were too fresh, too raw. Returning to Burgess would be the equivalent of North smashing his fist into his face. It would hurt. He'd lose control. A storm far worse than the 2011 Snowmaggedon would arise. More people would get hurt. Children would cry.

Hadn't he done enough damage to the town by taking one of their own?

His marred hand clenched around the ancient wood of his staff. He couldn't be trusted around people, around anyone for that matter. The Man in the Moon made him too powerful and too unpredictable. Who in their right mind would give a hormonal teenager power over the winter weather?

No, he didn't deserve the comfort of home (even if that home was in the form of a perpetually frozen lake). He didn't deserve any alleviation from his pain, for Jamie had suffered merciless cruelty at his hands. Jamie never got a say in the matter. The boy had been innocent and caring. He never deserved to die. But he did all because his best friend was too mentally unstable to be around kids. Two tiny, insignificant trigger words had set him off in the rant of his life. His previous shouting filled his ears and all he could do was clamp his hands over his ears in a desperate attempt to stop the internal voice. It was a childish gesture and insufficient, but it made him believe he could shut the voice up. Through scrunched eyes and a clamped jaw, he felt the Wind wrap around him. Soft gusts breezed through his hair in a soothing manner, as if someone was running their fingers across the white locks. It nudged at his hands, trying to whisper unspoken words of comfort to its broken charge.

However, all efforts were in vain. Jack wouldn't let himself land in the place of his birth. Although the action left him in grievous mental pain, he passed over his lake. There was no going back to the way things used to be. Instead of being ignored, he was hated. Instead of being left alone, others would probably come to seek him out and give him a piece of their mind. The other spirits hadn't been completely accepting of his induction. Most had grudgingly acknowledged the fact that the winter hellion was a Guardian. But now, now they had been proven right. Winter couldn't save a child. Winter was harsh and unforgiving. It was survive or be frozen. Winter was merciless and so very cold. How could Jack Frost become a Guardian when even he couldn't control the very nature of his season?

Apparently, Jack had been a fool for hoping that he could actually be a good Guardian. Now, he was exiled from the ones he called family and remorse kept him away from the only home he had known for 300 years. He was in for a lifetime of isolation and depression. His center was gone, replaced with melancholy and resignation. There was nothing he could do to change the past. He'd be lucky if he lasted a year without going completely insane. He shook the thought from his head. He needed to land.

Flicking his staff, the Wind cradled him in his descent. He watched as the ground came to meet his feet, tree branches uncomfortably trying to caress him. The air currents curled around his body in a loving embrace and some drifted across his ears. Jack waved them off as words of comfort. If it was important, the Wind would have been more persistent. Pale feet met hardened soil and Jack immediately sat down upon the contact. Leaning against the rough bark of a pine tree, he pressed a hand to his face. The other reached for the back of his neck, scratching at irritated skin. Jack chalked it up to his encounter with Pitch's nightmare sand slithering across the area. A little light seemed to go off in Jack's head.

Oh yeah, he sustained mild injuries.

Who cares?

…Nobody.

Pulling his knees closer to his body, he placed his staff next to him and wrapped both arms around his legs. Placing his forehead against his knees, he simply focused on breathing and thinking.

Jamie was gone.

Breathe in.

He wasn't a Guardian.

Breathe out.

He was back in isolation.

Breathe in.

It was worse because he knew what had been lost.

Breathe out.

Nobody would come to help him.

Breathe in.

He still had the Wind.

Breathe out.

He still had the memories.

Breathe in.

And maybe with those, he could work towards redemption.

Breathe out.

But what if it wasn't an option? The mark on his hand would drive everyone away. No sane spirit would want to be in his company for a social visit. He was branded as a traitor, one not to be trusted. Friendship was built on trust. Therefore, nobody would be his friend. Nobody would try to branch out and get to know him. They'd assume and all would be lost. If the Guardians hated him, so did everyone else. He would have to live with the loneliness and abandonment. His failures would forever be burned into his mind, reminding him that he could never do anything right. He'd cause blizzards and people would die and _wouldn't the world be so much safer without him?_

In, out, in, out…

Hyperventilating.

Suddenly, a soft glow fell upon Jack's cocooned body. He slowly raised his head to the source and found the moonlight trickling through the barren canopy. It was his season now and he couldn't hate it more.

Despondent cobalt peered into the heavens. Stars twinkled and winked around the moon, their joy lost upon the young spirit. Jack couldn't help but feel betrayed. The Moon had simply watched as he executed his crime. The Moon did nothing to stop the death and suffering.

"Why?" he whispered to the sphere in the sky. "Why would you let this happen?" he asked, voice gaining volume. Clenching his eyes shut in frustration, he sent a blast of frost into the air. "Why couldn't you protect him from me?! Why did it have to be him?" He sank to his knees, shoving his curled hands against his forehead. He could hear frost racing across the wood as the silence encased his very being. "Why didn't you do anything to stop me?"

Jack's hands hesitantly fell from his face to his sides. Pure blue irises gazed longingly at the brilliant orb among the stars. There was no patronizing. There were no harsh words of abhorrence. No judgments were passed upon him or disappointment for a spirit led astray. The moon simply chased away the darkness with its radiant beams, protecting its creation from the malicious children of the shadows. In that moment, Jack felt a spark of hope. Maybe, just maybe, something would go right. Perhaps something miraculous would tip the scale in his favor.

Maybe he wouldn't be alone again.

He swallowed in an attempt to moisten his dry throat. Gathering his courage, he opened his mouth to speak. And maybe, just maybe, the moon would reply. So with a stuttering and hesitant voice, the question was asked.

"C-Can you help me?"

However, the moon has a tendency to remain a silent figure in the sky. Jack fell asleep while waiting for any sign of a response. He wouldn't realize until morning that his broken question received no answer.

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_**A/N: Sorry it took me so long to update. My brain decided to take an extended leave of absence from this story. Dunno how well this went. :P All I know is that angst writing is ten times easier when you're actually angsting about something. True story. This'll probably be the last chapter with interrupting flashbacks for a while. No wait, that's a bit of a lie. There are dreams in the next chapter. :3 Also, thanks so much for all the follows, favorites, and reviews from the last chapter! :D Looks like I made a lot of people cry…awesome!**_


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Before I start this chapter, I need to give credit where credit is due. Thank you so much EpicDetour9 for letting me bounce ideas off of you! Without you, this fic would be stuck at Chapter 1. Also, a big thank you to Katherine, who took the time to make a fanart of this story! You can find it on deviantart at ****#/d5tsd6v (you know, after the site URL). That's it, so enjoy!**

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Thin, dark spindles wove their way through the night sky. They budged stiffly as they were buffeted by a weak air current. A low whistle followed, causing the taut branches to creak under the strain. No wildlife stirred as the wind passed through. Dead leaves skittered across the hardened soil of the forest, scratching and scraping against the unbreakable earth. Elongated shadows crisscrossed over the ground, set out of proportion due to the moon's light. Nothing swayed, laughed, or danced. Nothing reacted to the lively air. The forest was seen as a killjoy to the Wind. To others, it was simply a desolate winter's night.

But it wasn't a true winter's night, no, not to the Wind. Winter's nights were fun and beautiful. No stone was left uncovered by white fluffiness. Everything was pure and it sparkled against the moon light. Snowflakes danced happily and drifted on the breeze. They were funny beings, merely enjoying another's brief company while cheerfully ignoring their ultimate fate. Despite their short existences, snowflakes managed to live their lives to the fullest. Even as an archaic being, the Wind could never master this concept. It wasn't until the Spirit of Winter came along that it started to embrace simple existence.

In retrospect, that one fact was probably why the Wind kept Jack so close to its metaphorical heart. He was the flying child, the one that defied the laws of nature by _using_ nature itself. He was the enigma because, even after 300 years of acquaintanceship, the Wind still couldn't figure the boy out. One minute, he'd laugh about something and the next he'd be moping about said subject and just didn't know why. He'd apologize (dear MiM, there were _too many_ darting around in the adolescent's head) and shout and cry and mumble. He'd smile and laugh and play and whistle. In summary, he acted like a teenager. Despite centuries of learning to live with humans, mortal and immortal, the Wind (for the life of it) would never understand the teenage psyche. Ever.

But now, after caring (and _carrying_) its son for so long, the Wind understood everything. It knew the tragic fate of Jackson Overland, knew about the sister who had been left behind, and could piece together all of Jack's questionable actions. Without the memories, Jack Frost retained his instincts for just about everything. The Wind remembered watching the crooked staff weave across unlevel ice, reinforcing the translucent barrier between solid and liquid. No child had broken the shield that winter. It remembered seeing the boy upside-down, hanging from his legs bent over a tree branch. He offered a cheeky smile before the Wind knocked him down. It couldn't help but ruffle his hair as the youngling shot it an indignant pout.

The Wind ran thin streams of air through unkempt silvery hair. It tousled the mass of perpetually messy white locks, trying its best to provide the boy with some form of comfort. Back and head propped against a tall pine, Jack subconsciously leaned into the touch. His features scrunched as he pawed at something with his free hand, the other gripping his staff. The Wind gave an affectionate chuckle, disturbing the unyielding branches as it did so. The larger ones groaned in protest, complaining that it was winter and _damn it_ wait for spring! Well, nobody told the Wind what to do. It shook the offending limb harder as a reminder that it was here first and it could _do what it very well pleased._ Also, nobody saw the pines trees whining about the treatment. Conifers were hardy spirits, always up for a good romp with the Wind. They loved the winter for it was quiet without those nagging temperate trees. Temperate trees were aesthetic, content with obsessing over new leaves and how autumn was going to treat their colors. The conifers put up with them simply because they occupied the same forest and what would the humans do if they saw trees fighting trees? So they endured months of "What does this color do to my bark?" and "OMMiM, there's, like, twenty caterpillars in my branches!" to achieve their yearly reward: a sanctuary in the snow.

Besides, everyone knows that conifers are the most beautiful trees to grace the planet. Thank you very much!

The Wind rustled the pine's needles in gratitude. The gentle giant would provide shelter for Jack during the night. Of course, the Wind would too, but something was off. Something felt severely out of place. No, it wasn't the whole "Jack got betrayed and the Wind is beyond pissed off" situation. It was something else that the Wind couldn't quite place. Being a proud spirit, it couldn't ask the young pine about a supposed disturbance in the Force. If the Wind didn't know something, it was a serious matter…or lack of perceptive skills. The Moon was out tonight and finally, after three long centuries, decided that tonight was the time to reach out to Jack.

In the Wind's personal opinion, he was a little late. Replace "a little late" with "Where the hell have you been?!" and you've got a royally annoyed force of nature. It crossed two drafts together, both going in opposite directions, and put in a strong zephyr for good measure. Sure, pouting may be childish, but it was the best way to portray emotions. It probably picked up the body language from Jack despite not having a true body to replicate the stance with. After a moment of frustration, the boughs ceased their moaning as the Wind released the currents. Better late than never and right now, Jack could use all the comfort he could get. Carefully spinning one strand of hair on a miniscule air current, the Wind released a long smooth gust over the forest. The teen was handling his predicament quite well, displaying a level of maturity beyond that of a child's. Instances like these were when the Wind panicked. What if Jack acted like this for the rest of his immortal existence? The Wind wasn't naïve; it knew Jack would never be the same, but what if he was truly shattered? It would be the same as losing the youthful spirit and the Wind knew it would never be able to cope with such a loss. Jack had given meaning to the Wind's existence, restored a playful demeanor it once believed was lost to the cosmos. If Jack, the personification of fun, became so withdrawn and depressed, so would the Wind. Their connection was an abyss, their loyalty managing to crawl deeper than that. To lose that connection would devastate both beings and the Wind refused to consider it an option.

So with a resolved mind, the Wind turned its attention away from its charge, its son, and turned to the Moon. Perhaps that one beam of moonlight would make everything better. The Man in the Moon had jurisdiction over the Guardians, so maybe He could remove the dark blemish marring Jack's hand. Maybe He could make everything right again and then Jack would have a family. Everything would go back to the way it was supposed to be and Jack's mental trauma would heal and North would give him sugar that Tooth would disapprove of and Bunny would be a good older brother and get the child even more sugar high to the point where Sandy would knock them all out and the Wind would laugh and laugh until Jack joined in and they would fly across the planet as two best friends should! The Moon would fix everything and, if he didn't, then the Wind would because, if you valued your continued existence, nobody defied a pissed off force of nature.

A shadow suddenly fell over the moonbeam, causing the Wind to launch itself beyond the austere treetops. Tufts of condensed vapors wafted across the once visible cosmos. With renewed vigor, the Wind chased them away. In graceful swoops and spins, the airstream picked up and the flimsy clouds rolled over the forest. The Moon watched in amusement as one of the most elderly spirits shooed the darkness away from its child. He truly never thought he would see the day when the Wind cared for another being like it was their own. Jack Frost proved to be challenging all of his expectations.

The Man in the Moon frowned. It was a week to Christmas and Santoff Claussen was encountering its busiest production schedule in the year. Why wasn't Jack there, becoming enraptured with the activity? The boy had always loved the workshop and watching the yetis go about their daily routine, so why was he absent for something so incredible? Where was his sense of wonder?

No, this didn't seem right. Jack was alone on a night perfect for telling stories around North's fireplace. Instead of being surrounded by his new family, he was curled up in a fetal position smack in the middle of a forest. This couldn't be right. Maybe the boy had gone out to spread his frost and change the season. He tired himself out before he could return to any of the Guardians' homes. Despite being in their care since Easter, the boy still enjoyed sleeping in the crook of a tree branch or buried within a snow drift. But he hardly ever took residence on the cold hard ground. Perhaps something happened to the young spirit or maybe the Guardians overestimated their emotional boundaries with the boy. Whatever the reason, Manny still didn't know the answer to his question.

The night before, thick gray clouds had hung over Burgess. It was impenetrable, adamant about keeping the moonlight from reaching the town below. He had been blind until the clouds lifted, revealing sleeping children and no Guardian in the area. The sun had chased him away not too long after the condensation dissipated. Manny frowned. Maybe he missed something when he had surveyed the settlement. Everything had appeared to be in order. Then again, the gloom of the night tended to obscure the valuable little details. So he sent out his beacon after covering his winter child in a moonbeam.

Under the same night sky, the Man in the Moon searched for his old friend among the shifting tresses and glimmering stars. The magnificent splendor of the Sandman's aircraft represented everything the little Guardian stood for. It was imagination amidst a gloomy sea of oppression. It was a sanctuary where lost dreams could find refuge and a place in the world. The Sandman's dreams never died, even when the children awoke from their slumber. Every night after the passage of the sun, all the dreams were rejuvenated and returned to the ever-inventive young minds. The crafting and rebirth of every creation was probably Sandy's favorite part. He loved sharing his gift of good dreams and he'd always be around to grant them.

Small sand-clad arms rose and fell with waves of golden particles. Each grain held an idea, a fantastical wish, and glowed with its energy. Pulsing and swelling, the Sandman gracefully sent his dreamsand wisps off into the night. Every strand of imagination would find their creator no matter how long it took and, in the rare event that a tendril could not find its child, it was Sandy's job to guide them. In fluid motions, delicate golden fibers wafted through the air.

On a normal night, Sandy's smile would never die. The Guardian of Dreams thoroughly enjoyed his exhausting task. What one man would see as a burden was his pleasure. Without a hint of sarcasm or fatigue, Sandy could truly say that he loved his job. But tonight, his movements were sluggish and his smile was faint. Instead of adding his usual flare to each reverie, he cast them off without a second glance. Leaning on a dreamsand railing, Sandy sighed and ran a hand through his untamed hair. There were too many thoughts bouncing through his head, too many memories he wished would simply not exist. No matter what he did, nothing could keep his mind away from Jack Frost.

Sandy wanted to cry for his lost child. They had been too quick to judge. Even after the Easter fiasco, they still hadn't learned when to take a minute and use their brains. Cupping his face with his hands, Sandy gazed wistfully at the churning cloud layer. The sky was his sea and the clouds were the waves he rode on. An ocean in the sky was the best dream he had ever received as a mortal and it came true. Why couldn't Jack's dreams come true?

A thin patch of silvery light ghosted over the ethereal deck of the dreamsand ship. It stopped in the center of the surface, landing on the circular emblem of the sand vessel. Sensing the benign intrusion, Sandy left his perch and floated towards the center of the insignia. He allowed himself to bask in the moonlight, extending his arms in an inviting manner. The Man in the Moon wanted him to do something, help a child. No, it wasn't just any child, it was Jack. Jack was in the area? Sandy was puzzled. He'd assumed that Jack headed to the South Pole or somewhere in the middle of Russia. When the boy was upset, he liked to be alone. Well, upset was the understatement of the century.

The light disappeared as quickly as it came, the request ringing through the Sandman's ears. Somehow, it soothed Sandy's frantic mind to know that Jack was so close by. His treatment had been brutal, even if it was in response to an incredibly heinous act. It hadn't entirely been Jack's fault, but the Oath of the Guardians came before everything else and the Moon hadn't stepped in. Was Manny really that cruel?

Regardless, Sandy crafted his beloved dreamsand airplane and aviator goggles. Without sparing another second for mundane actions, he set his course for the forest near Quechee, Vermont. Within minutes, the sand dissipated and wove its way through the treetops. Golden irises caught a flash of blue and Sandy was instantly at the boy's side. Jack's hands were held close to his chest, curled around the base of his staff. His head rested against the trunk of a pine, hair getting caught in the small grooves of the bark.

From his rumpled appearance, Sandy could deduce that he had been asleep for a few hours. During that time period, he'd shifted onto his side. He hadn't dreamed at all. No wonder MiM sent him here. With a soft smile, Sandy skillfully fashioned the best dream he could for the child. After everything he'd been through, Jack deserved a bit of good. Some would see it as a cruel distraction from reality, a temporary solution until it all fell away to dust. Sandy saw it as a chance to forget for a little while and believe that everything was ok. So he sent a gratuitous amount of dreamsand to Jack, granting an egress from the merciless nature of the waking world. Reluctantly, Sandy stroked the teen's pure white hair before the Wind quickly batted him away. He was hurt by the action, but understood the spirit's intentions. The Wind was angry with the Guardians for harming its charge. Sandy couldn't blame it.

In a pacifying manner, Sandy backed away from Jack. Before he constructed his loyal aircraft, his eyes twinkled in regret and relief. The golden images over the boy's head displayed two figures playing a game of chase. Jack's features had relaxed, the ghost of a smile gracing his lips. In the smallest way possible, Sandy felt he had made a difference. But the truth returned and he knew that nothing could fix what had been done. Turning his back on the scene, Sandy left with a heavy heart. Murder was not something to be taken lightly, especially when it involved a child, but maybe some miracle would prove Jack guiltless. But even so, the damage had been done and there was no going back. As much as it pained him to do so, Sandy had to keep telling himself that Tooth was right and Jack had killed Jamie.

It made the abandonment slightly more justified, but did nothing to ease the mounting guilt in his heart.

_Bright blue eyes fluttered open, becoming squinted as the sun hit them. Pupils contracted in response to the stimulus and Jack Frost managed to survey his blurry surroundings. A nightstand stood to the right of his head, supporting an analog clock and a tall glass of water. Sunlight hit the rim of the glass, creating a rainbow about as wide as a pinprick when he looked at it the right way. The light pattern ran in a diagonal line and Jack tilted his head to change its angle to the rim. With a smile, he looked through the water and gazed at the distorted shapes that filled his vision. Sometimes, he'd wander around Santoff Claussen with an iridescent ice cube and closed eyes. He'd spin around four times, chose a direction, and hold the cube in front of his eyes. He'd try to guess exactly where in the complex he was using nothing more than his scattered brain and warped images._

_He could make out a dresser and a door from the elongated images in the cylinder. If they were on the far right side of the room, then Jack deduced that he was in his room at Santoff Claussen. If you asked him, the bed and cozy flannel sheets did not give away his location at all. Looking around the room, he saw his shelf on the far wall, the large hexagonal window to his left, and his staff leaning against the left wall perpendicular to his bed. Everything seemed to be in order and nothing suggested that this was a dream. At least, not yet…_

_Jack frowned and focused on the ceiling. The last thing he remembered was a forest somewhere in the Appalachians. Well, he thought it was the Appalachians. It could have easily been somewhere on the Canadian border. Regardless of where he truly had been, it had definitely not been his room. In fact, he barely used this room! _

_"Jack, you're still in bed?" Jamie asked with a smirk. "I thought you'd be up by now seeing as you always wake me before sunrise on a snow day."_

_"Snow day?" Jack questioned. Since when were kids allowed here?_

_"Yeah, you gave one to us this morning and then North came to drag you back here with a snow globe. He said you were sick or something, but you kept insisting that your fever broke last night," Jamie explained to the confused winter spirit._

_"I was sick? But I never get sick!" Jack exclaimed. What was going on?_

_"Sandy told me about it a few nights ago," Jamie said as he shuffled his feet. He leaned against the doorframe before continuing. "He said it got really bad and you were delirious. He also mentioned something about fever dreams and night terrors." So, everything had just been a bad dream? Jamie's murder had been nothing but a nightmare?_

_That…that was the best news he'd received all day!_

_With a laugh, Jack ran a hand through his hair. Relief flooded through his body as he whooped with joy. He knew he was smiling like an idiot, but it just felt right. Jamie was here, alive, at Santoff Claussen. He couldn't ask for anything better than that._

_"You're alive!" he shouted happily, launching out of bed and tackling the unfortunate nine year old. Jamie barely had time to gasp as Jack rammed into him, causing both of them to topple over onto the hardwood floor._

_"Um…yeah, I am," Jamie replied slowly, returning the awkward hug. "Why wouldn't I be?"_

_"I thought…" Jack faltered before shaking his head. "It doesn't matter, it wasn't real." Picking himself up off the floor, he extended a hand to Jamie. The boy accepted the hand with a smile and hugged Jack's waist. Surprised, the teen raised an eyebrow at the behavior._

_"You were in trouble for a little while," the boy explained, burying his face in the frost-coated blue hoodie. "We-well, the Guardians-didn't think you'd pull through." Looking up into clear blue eyes, Jamie said, "But I knew you could. I knew you wouldn't leave us."_

_"No, I'd never do that," Jack whispered. With a devilish grin, he ruffled Jamie's auburn hair and pulled away from the boy's loose grasp. He collapsed on the bed, back on the covers, and reached for his staff with his right arm. Clutching the staff, he vaulted himself past Jamie and through the doorway. "Well, now that I'm fine, let's have some fun."_

_Jamie broke out in a wide smile before following and running past Jack. Turning around, he shouted, "C'mon Jack, I've got a surprise!" He swiveled again, running down the empty corridor. Sunlight hit his back from the multiple windows adorning the wall. Giving the boy another ten second head start, Jack gave the chase._

_"What is it?" the teen shouted down the hall, unable to see Jamie now. He squinted as he ran through patches of sunlight._

_"You've gotta catch me first!" the childish giggle replied._

_Jack followed the voice as it led him through various corridors and rooms. He didn't notice as he was led away from the sunny side of the complex only to be replaced by hanging lamps and candlesticks. Shadows began creeping along the walls as Jack's gait began to falter._

_"Jamie?" he asked, slowing down into a brisk walk. A mounting feeling of dread was beginning to form in the pit of his stomach. Briefly, an image of North holding his belly flashed through his mind. Shaking the fairly amusing image away, he directed his attention back to finding Jamie._

_"Jack, I'm over here!" his voice responded. Jogging towards the source, Jack found the lighting getting gradually worse. Old gas lamps lined the walls, cobwebs caught between the curved metal bases. The flames flickered from behind dust-covered glass. There was one door at the end of the hallway, almost completely hidden by the shadows. The only part Jack could make out was the gleaming brass doorknob._

_As Jack was taking his next step, a blood curdling scream ripped through the air. The winter spirit could feel his heart jump and accelerate as he sprinted towards the door. Staff poised for an attack, Jack gripped and turned the knob and tore the door open. "JAMIE!" he screamed as panic laced his voice. Wide cobalt eyes took in their surroundings._

_A single beam of light pierced the darkness, calling out to Jack as strongly as the North Pole during the winter. Cautiously, he stepped forward into the illuminated area. The door slammed shut as soon as he entered the center of the shaft of light. He swiveled with a jump, staff extended as frost circled around him. Everything around him was pitch black, eyes and glowing ice unable to penetrate the darkness._

_"Jamie?" he asked hesitantly. He slowly paced the small lit area, slowly becoming more and more disoriented._

_"Surprise!" Jamie screeched, suddenly jumping from the shadows. Jack let out a scream, stopping at the last second from sending out a strong blast of winter magic. "I told you I was dead!"_

_Jack panted, unable to form coherent words. He tried to regain his bearings as he stared at the giggling boy in front of him. "You...you what?" he managed to reply._

_"I said that I told you I'd be here!" Jamie clarified. With a smug expression, he crossed his arms over his chest. "You have really bad hearing if you can't hear me screaming in pain."_

_"What?" This wasn't right. Jack figured that he must have misheard again._

_"Scream when we play." Jamie's arms fell to his side as he adopted a concerned look. "Jack, are you ok?"_

_"Yeah," Jack said quietly. "Yeah Jamie, I'm fine." Shaking the feeling away, he cracked a smile. "You want to play a game?" Games, yes, games were good. Games reminded him of being a Guardian, of fun and friendship. Yes, a game would be a good distraction right about now._

_"Sure!" Jamie exclaimed happily. Bouncing on the balls of his feet, he continued his explanation. "Caleb taught me this campfire game. You have to describe the perfect murder. It's really creepy, but it's all for laughs. It's kind of like a ghost story."_

_"I don't know if I like this game..." No, this really didn't feel right. Was it just him, or was the light flickering? Part of Jamie's face was obscured by the shadows, brunette bangs falling into equally brown eyes._

_"You know want to know what Cupcake said? She was thinking of you when she said it." Jack could hear something slithering along the invisible walls. He really, really didn't like where this was going. He knew he didn't want to know the answer, knew he wouldn't be able to take the answer…but curiosity always won out in the end._

_"...What?" he asked in a small voice. A wicked smirk broke across Jamie's face coupled with a sickly dripping sound._

_"She said that she would use an icicle." An unidentifiable liquid met Jack's foot. "You can stab someone with it and when you're done, the evidence melts away." As he spoke, Jamie was consumed by the shadows and seemingly pulled backwards into the swirling mass._

_"Jamie, where are you?" Jack shouted, panicked for his friend. He took a step forward and his foot fell into a puddle. Eyes drifted to the floor and Jack immediately drew his foot back. Blood, he'd stepped in blood. This was Jamie's blood. Oh no, oh please MiM no…_

_"I'm right here Jack!" Jamie replied, still nowhere to be seen. "What, is your sight gone too?" The voice was no longer playful and light, now taking on a scathing, sarcastic tone._

_"Jamie!" Jack swiped at the shadows with his staff, worry for his friend consuming his entire being. The shadows remained unyielding, ever-moving objects. He didn't dare leave his circle of light which was gradually shrinking with every advance he made. Something told him to stay with the light, that he would be lost if he exited the ring._

_Suddenly, everything stopped. The room was flooded in a stark white. Blinded, Jack stumbled and was backed into a wall. Everything was too bright, far brighter than his snow in the sun. A small, broken voice entered his ears. "...Why Jack?"_

_Jack's head turned left and right. Jamie still wasn't in sight, so he asked, "Why what?" A shuffling came from behind him, the wall his back was previously against vanishing into thin air._

_"Why did you kill me?" the boy whispered. Little by little, Jack turned to face him and gasped at what he found. Jamie lay in a pool of his own blood, multiple lacerations marring his body. "I thought we were friends." Tears formed in soft brown eyes._

_"I didn't...we are!" was Jack's exasperated answer. Dropping his staff, he fell onto his knees and tried to reach out to the boy he killed. Jamie shrank away from the gesture with a look of disgust and betrayal._

_"Then why Jack? Why did you make me like this?!" Flesh was falling off the boy in clumps, making sickening thuds as they fell to the whitewashed floors. Blood spread like wildfire across the clean tiles as soulless eyes haunted cobalt ones._

_"I'm sorry Jamie! Please, I'm so sorry!" Jack begged. He collapsed before his former friend, hands clenched into fists. He pressed his forehead against the cold linoleum, shivering as he made contact. His frost didn't dare extend beyond its master's frame, making the room unusually warm in Jack's presence. In fact, it was too warm for Jack's presence. The teen's body began to shake uncontrollably as warmth and coldness battled for the right over his frame. He was hot and cold, vulnerable to any form of attack without his staff in immediate snatching distance._

_"You're a monster!" Jamie shrieked, voice taking on a rough, scratchy quality. "All you do is murder! Plants, people, animals...they all die because of you!" It was true, winter was the season that killed. He was the spirit who murdered._

_With his head down, Jack didn't notice the tall shadows falling over his body. He could only focus on the sticky fluid beginning to coat his hands. He had blood on his hands and nothing would wash it away. He could rub and scrape his hands, but nothing would get rid of the dark red stains on them. His left hand burned again, the pain consuming his limb. He didn't dare move. He didn't deserve any form of relief. He had to pay the consequences of his actions and he intended to endure every minute of it because he deserved it all._

_"You're better off alone and without belief."_

_The statement burned his heart. He loved playing with the children and loved interacting with others, but perhaps he could have been stopped without the extra power belief gave him. Maybe he really was better off alone. He wouldn't hurt the people he cared about or the innocent ones caught in the fray. Maybe the world would be better if Jack Frost was locked away in some cave, unable to come in contact with those who needed the protection of a true Guardian. Maybe he wasn't meant to be a Guardian, too dangerous to be one. Fun and games, right? Well, fun tended to have its dark moments. A child could get hurt if they attempted some stupid, dangerous stunt all for the fun of it. Was that something to guard? Was that something to cherish? Fun could hurt people and so could he. Was he really cut out for this?_

_"Look at me and stand up!" Jack unsteadily complied, climbing to his feet and forcing himself to look into everyone's eyes. While he had been crouched on the floor, Tooth, Sandy, North, and Bunny managed to crowd around him. Their presence made him feel claustrophobic. The feeling was forgotten as soon as he looked at Tooth. Every Guardian held the same expression: disappointment and resentment. He shrank under their scrutinizing gazes, but they all turned a blind eye to his discomfort. Jamie's decomposed hand grabbed his chin, forcing Jack to look into the deceased child's eyes._

_"I hate you Jack," he hissed, "and so do the Guardians."_

_Jack froze. Looking down, he saw the end of an icicle protruding from his chest. His head was slowly raised, scared eyes meeting murderous ones. He felt himself fall, falling into the darkness with Jamie and the Guardians' smirk burned into his irises._

Jack woke with a start, bolting into an upright position. He clutched his stomach as he dry heaved, tears running down his cheeks. Turning to the side, clear stomach acid was expelled from his mouth. The Wind tried to cuddle and sooth the youngling, but Jack could feel nothing but the overwhelming sadness and burning pain in the back of his throat.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry…" Jack sobbed, repeating the mantra over and over again. Tears landed unfrozen on the ground as the sun began to peak over the horizon. Even as the night gave way to day, Jack remained in his position. Unmoving, he cried himself back into a restless slumber, unable to prevent the residual black sand from entering his mind. The Wind tried in vain to wake its child, nudging and prodding at the blue hoodie and bare feet. Nothing could disturb the boy's sleep.

As the corrupted sand swirled over Jack's head, the Wind was beside itself with panic. Air gusted through the sleeping forest, crying and shouting for its child. Jack never stirred, lost in his fears and drowning in his nightmares.

* * *

**A/N: So sorry about making you guys wait so long! :3 Ugh, I don't really like how this chapter came out. I feel like the writing got wonky and ugh…**

**Dear MiM, thank you all for the favorites, follows, and reviews! I mean, wow! I'm impressed and humbled! Also, glad everyone (at least, I think everyone) enjoyed the bit about the snowflakes. As hard as it was to start the last chapter, that scene was really fun to write. Never done something like that before and I tried to do the same with this chapter. I tried to put in some comic relief and I don't know how well it went. :3 The only thing I can tell you is that the story gets more intense from here. If there's one thing I can promise you, it's this: the ending will break your heart.**

**Thanks so much for reading!**


	4. Chapter 4

_A single streetlight illuminated a room cast in shadows. The wind pounded against the window, providing the only source of sound in the area. It bucked and punched, slamming repeatedly into the hard pane of glass. Closed windows were there to keep nature out, not let it in. However, this fact did not stop the gusts from ramming into the iridescent surface blocking them from the individuals within the abode. The wind was absolutely frantic and the only one who could understand its worry was currently traumatized with his own problems._

_Brows scrunched in discomfort as rhythmic beats registered in dazed eardrums. A slender finger twitched as a groan escaped from parted lips. Who in the world was making that noise and why? Didn't they know it was the middle of the night? Couldn't they be courteous and let their neighbors sleep?_

_Wait…what neighbors? The only neighbors the palace possessed were the clouds, mountains, and wind. The open hallways of each pillar sang every time the wind passed through, they didn't create cacophonous bangs. Also, it was much too stuffy to be Tooth Palace. Birds, let alone hummingbird-hybrids, were not fond of being packed into a confined area. The palace was a merely a perch, a storage unit for the teeth. It was vast, exposed to the elements yet it provided shelter from the monsoons and lesser storms. It smelled of fresh rain and minty floss. It did not smell like a greyhound in need of a bath._

_Vibrant amethyst eyes blinked cautiously, adjusting to the dimness now refracting against small pupils. They blinked once, twice, widening as the image was clarified. Wings were crunched against a wall, undamaged but in a highly uncomfortable position. Feathers were ruffled, some scattered around the point of impact with the plaster wall. Eyes lazily drifted towards the only window in the room where the wind howled and reared. The pane appeared to shudder with every collision. Artificial light from the outside seeped through the translucent glass, its beam chasing the shadows away. The sallow glow directed its attention to something on the other side of the room._

_Hesitantly, Tooth rubbed at her eyes. They felt irritated, possibly slightly puffy, as if dirt had crawled its way between her lashes. Rolling from her side and onto her stomach, lucid dainty-looking wings buzzed to life. Now that she was hovering, Tooth could get a clear view of the area. She couldn't hold back a gasp._

_Overturned furniture and broken glass littered the floor. Black sand and white stuffing was strewn across the floor, tainting both hardwood and carpet. Behind the capsized couch, two figures were visible. One was deathly still. The other was deathly pale. Both were deathly cold._

"_Jack!" she whispered in worry. Darting over to the crouched teen, she noticed his downcast features. As she cupped his face with her hands, she kneeled before the boy. Tooth tried to look him in the eye. "Jack, please talk to me." The teen gently swatted her away, a horrified expression creeping through his visage. He gripped his staff; frost coating the worn wood farther than his hands could reach in their current position._

"_No, no…" he whispered, shaking his head as he did. "You need to stay away. You don't understand…I…something…Jamie…"_

"_Jack," she spoke softly, calmly, "What happened?"_

"_Please Tooth, I-I never wanted…it shouldn't have!"_

"_I want to help you, but you're not making sense," Tooth explained, slowly rising to her feet. Jack shook his head faster._

"_You-you're going to remember," he stammered. "You're going to remember and it'll still be my fault."_

"_What am I supposed to remember?" There was a horrible dampness under her foot. Morbid curiosity poked at Tooth's brain and, despite Jack's pleading expression, she looked down. Red. Red and a body._

_There was shouting and an icicle. There was crying and rage and hatred and so many unresolved issues bubbling under the surface of a supposedly frozen lake. There was a child, a sweet innocent child, and blood. There were nightmares and curses, tears and apologies…and then there was darkness._

_She remembered everything._

_"I...I..." Jack stuttered. His staff clattered to the ground as he slowly stepped backwards, away from Jamie's body. Pale hand gripped tufts of white hair in shock and horror. Bright blue irises darted about the room, widened and pleading. They finally rested a patch of the rug. It wasn't stained red, but it was a darker shade than the dry portion of the material. In the center laid a melting piece of ice, now indistinguishable from the shape it previously held. But Jack knew. Jack knew what it had been and how it had been used. The perfect murder…_

_An icicle leaves no trace when its purpose has been fulfilled._

_He backed against a wall, a hand on his chest as he hyperventilated. His other hand had also dropped from his head to his side. Meeting Tooth's expressionless gaze, his lips began to tremble. "I did this..." he stated breathlessly. Dilated pupils focused on the body of a child. "I did this."_

_"Jack..." Tooth started, unsure of how to continue. "Just...we'll figure something out." It was all she could offer. The teen looked at her with disbelief plastered across his features._

_"What?" he scoffed. "Do you think this'll fix itself?" He turned his head away, obscuring his face in the shadows. "I killed Jamie. I killed a kid. I broke the oath by killing my best friend!" He shouted the last part at her, anger and pain flashing across his eyes. Just as quickly, he focused his gaze on the ground. "I don't deserve to be a Guardian."_

_Tooth cautiously stepped towards him. What was she supposed to say? Her oath, duty, and morality were all mixing and combining into an untamed monster. She wanted to comfort her child, to whisper those soothing nothings into his ears, but she was a witness to a crime. As a witness, there was no room for bias._

_The cold hard facts were right in front of her: Jack murdered Jamie and broke his oath. Taking a life, especially one so young, was a crime punishable by death. But she couldn't bear the thought of Jack's death. He'd simply lost control of his power. He mistook Jamie for Pitch in his blind rage. It wasn't entirely his fault._

_The memory of the event would forever haunt Toothiana. She would always remember the raw fear she felt as Jamie was ripped away from her grasp. She'd remember as it anchored her in place, restricting her mind to thoughts only. She'd remember screaming at Jack as a force greater than herself held her away from the carnage. She was a Guardian for the Moon's sake! Why couldn't she protect Jamie?_

_In a twisted sense, she was just as guilty as Jack was for Jamie's death. How could she just let something like that happen?_

_But…but memories were still memories, right? Memories didn't lie. Memories revealed the truth and were the most dependable source of information. Memories didn't cloud the mind; they helped it recall important events in a time of need. Wonder, hope, dreams, and fun obscured judgment and confused imagination with reality. Memories were facts. Memories grounded one to reality._

_Memories condemned Jack Frost._

_Toothiana really wished she had Father Time's powers._

_As much as she wanted to rush over and comfort Jack in a feathered embrace, she stood her ground. She had a duty to uphold. Toothiana was a Guardian of Childhood, offering protection to the children of the world. It was part of her job to shield as many kids as she could from potential harm. Tonight, she had failed. But only one of the two Guardians had broken their oath._

_The Oath of the Guardian was sacred. It was taboo to violate. Jack committed two of the most odious actions in the same night. Tooth didn't know whether to be fearful or saddened by the information. But the facts remained over personal judgment. The memories would always ring true. As much as it pained her, a simple scolding would not fix this. Jack ended the life of a child. He wasn't a Guardian. He couldn't be treated as a Guardian._

_He was no longer family._

_Swallowing down her cries, she straightened her posture. She ignored the voice in the back of her mind that screamed maybe, just maybe, this was all a huge misunderstanding. One glance at the claret-stained rug shut it up. Fierce violet met petrified cobalt. In this mindset, she was no longer the bubbly Tooth. No, she was Toothiana: Queen of the Tooth Fairy Armies. Right now, she had to strengthen her resolve and show no mercy to an enemy._

_So why, after centuries of practice, was it so hard to do?_

"_Jack Frost," she said sternly, "You…you are correct." The hurt flickering on Jack's face made a dent in her apathy. She had to continue before she lost it. "I…you're not a Guardian anymore." Off like a band-aid. The quicker it was, there was less pain to experience._

_The lamppost dimmed, casting the two spirits in the shadows. Jack's hood was up, hiding his face from view. The crackling and popping of ice made Tooth's feather's stand on end. After a few seconds, the noise abruptly stopped._

_The image of an icicle came to mind._

"_I'm not a Guardian," Jack whispered, barely audible to Tooth. "I-I never should've been one to begin with." An empty cackle followed. "I knew that I never could be one. I always mess things up and I never learn from mistakes. But…I think I know how to stop them from happening in the future." The hood fell away when Jack's head jerked upwards. Crystal tears threatened to leave his eyes as he smiled sadly at the Tooth Fairy._

"_Jack, what are you doing?" The indifferent demeanor fell away only to be replaced by pure panic. There was an icicle in his left hand. The response she received chilled her heart._

"_What I should have done a long time ago."_

_This never happened. This wasn't supposed to happen!_

_Tooth found herself rooted to the floor yet again. She could only watch as the icicle buried its way deep beneath the dark blue hoodie it penetrated. Its base was soon stained red as Jack screamed. His staff, his only source of comfort for three hundred long years, lay abandoned at his feet. The wind wailed and shrieked, finally breaking through its man-made barrier and swirling throughout the house. Despite the chaotic atmosphere, Tooth's eyes were trained on Jack's chest._

_Something fell to the ground with a soft clinking noise. A heavier object was soon on its way._

"_No…please MiM, no…" she whispered, hands covering her mouth._

_Jack's body was dead before it hit the floor._

"NO!"

Tooth shot out of her bed, wings pulsating in time with her frantically beating heart. Sunlight harshly met violet irises and a feathered arm was raised to block the intrusive rays. Sweat beaded across her forehead and tear tracks decorated her cheeks. Why did she have to dream of that awful night? It was so hard to believe that it had been less than thirty six hours ago…

With a sigh, the Guardian managed to calm her racing heart and wings. Now hovering at a normal height above the ground, she turned away from the cheerful daylight. She couldn't find it in herself to greet the day as she always did after a refreshing night's sleep. Instead, she felt lethargic and so very saddened and she just couldn't stop thinking about _that_.

"No, I am going to focus on my work," she told herself. "I am _not_ going to think about last night and I am not going to think about-"

"_What I should have done a long time ago."_

Why did her conscience need to wage a war against itself?

Without further hesitation, Tooth grabbed the handle of her bedroom door and thrust it open. Entering the hallway, she heard thousands of tiny conversations taking place throughout the palace. Mini fairies shuttled themselves from continent to continent, collecting and sorting teeth as they went. At the moment, Baby Tooth and her friend had taken charge in Tooth's place. It was time to reclaim her position.

As she flew across the palace, she felt millions of tiny eyes on the back of her head. Some of them were fearful, others were angered, and a few were mournful. For a moment, Tooth regretted telling them about the fate of the youngest Guardian. She quickly remembered that keeping the information from them would have been wrong and resulted in more consequences in the future. Her fairies deserved to know what was happening, even if it meant being the recipient of many cold shoulders. Even so, it didn't prevent the fairies from performing their tasks.

The fairies would never stop doing their job. Like any family, they loved their mother with every fiber of their beings. However, children often have huge disagreements with their parents and the fairies were no exception. All of her fairies loved Jack Frost, mischief and all. More than once, Tooth caught her fairies gossiping about the teen and his antics. One girl would boast that he winked at her. Another would pipe up and say that he allowed her to rest in the pouch of his hoodie from Burgess to Takikawa. After multiple stories and cries of jealousy, Baby Tooth would flutter by and remind everyone of her friendship with the winter spirit. The swarms usually dissipated after that, a few shooting envious glares towards the beaming mini fairy. She wouldn't dare remind them of the fact that Jack would let her tag along on his snow-making outings. Oh, Baby Tooth...

Tooth let a hand rest on her forehead, a sigh escaping from her lips. She ran her hand through the feathers of her headdress. The fairies had not taken the news well. Baby Tooth outright exploded with rage.

She chirped and twittered, chastising her mother for making such a horrible assumption. Memory?! Who gave a crap about that? Tooth had made a mental note to discover who taught her child that word.

Baby Tooth didn't stop. Did her mother bother to look at details? Why was she so quick to assume? Why didn't she try to help Jack? Couldn't she see that the teen was just as distraught as her? Did she realize that she'd never get that trust back? Didn't she realize that memories could be warped and corrupted by one's thoughts and feelings? Memories were like opinions, easily affected by emotions and trauma. An argument from one person could look like friendly banter to the other. Memories showed the perspective of a person, not the full-blown truth. That's why people liked getting opinions and asking for both sides of a story: one perspective could be wrong.

After giving a sister fairy directions to a tooth in Venezuela, Baby Tooth spotted her matron figure flying towards her. Part of her wanted to continue throwing hissy fits at her mother in honor of Jack. The other (more mature) half wanted to just leave the palace and go find Jack. It had been at least ten hours since the branding had happened and the teen had to be lonely. Maybe she could cheer him up with a visit! Oh, maybe she could give him something special…like floss! Yes! People with really white teeth liked floss! Or…did they like whitening strips better? Whatever it was, Jack would definitely appreciate a present right now!

Her excited musings were cut short when a large finger lightly tapped her feathers. With an indignant chirp, she spun to face whoever dared to mess up her plumage. The annoyance bled out of her face when she realized it was Toothiana. Like any good soldier to their superior, Baby Tooth straightened her posture and gave a small salute. Perhaps this show of courtesy would get her out faster. If she was lucky, there'd be a tooth under a pillow somewhere cold and snowy and…

"Baby Tooth, there's a lateral incisor in Sydney," Tooth reported to the mini fairy. "Nobody's stopped by to pick it up yet and the sun's already starting to rise. If you fly fast, you'll be able to catch it just in time." The statement carried far less enthusiasm than it had in the Tooth Fairy's entire existence. The miniature version almost pitied her creator. Almost. "Can you take care of that?" Baby Tooth nodded slowly at first before realization dawned upon her. Her gesture became far more animated and, within seconds, she was gone.

The mini fairy always enjoyed flying through the clouds. They were cool and refreshing and they looked so puffy and deceiving! Had they been more like cotton balls, Baby Tooth would happily spend a free day bouncing on the floating pillow, drifting playfully from one to the other. Unfortunately, science doesn't work like that so she resolved to just darting through them at full speed.

Sometimes, upon exiting the condensed water, small crystalline droplets would cling to her feathers. She would feel like a princess and indulge a bit in her inner girly-ness. She'd twirl and waltz as she'd seen the snowflakes do with Jack. She'd let the water sparkle on her wings, making colorful feathers even more vibrant and beautiful than before. As the water hit her face time and time again, she'd laugh and dance until she ran out of breath and stamina. In that moment, she'd remember that she actually had a job to do and hustle to it. The distractions improved her flying, making her one of the fastest mini fairies. Clouds prevented her from getting caught in Pitch's initial strike against the palace. Who knew procrastination could pay off so well?

But today was different. Today, Baby Tooth had an important job in mind. Sydney was in Australia and, if she remembered the way, it meant that she could visit the Warren. From what her mother said, Bunnymund had been the one to stick up for Jack. She'd have to give him an extra shiny quarter for talking back to her mother. Toothiana was right about a lot of things, but not this time. Baby Tooth could feel it…in her (extremely tiny) belly.

Of course, she'd get the tooth first.

* * *

One tooth and two close calls with a demon iguana later, Baby Tooth found herself fluttering towards the outback. She giggled slightly as she passed some kangaroos. Oh, there was a wallaby down there too! She would have to tell Jack about that! Wallabies were like tiny kangaroos, right? Well, close enough! It'll work for Jack.

Surprisingly enough, she found the Pooka lounging against a tree. His eyes surveyed the landscape as his paws twitched. His nose caught her scent within a ten meter radius. Noticing that green eyes were staring intently at her, Baby Tooth took it as an invitation. She carefully strapped the incisor to her waist strap before darting over to the Guardian. Normally, the mini fairies would only use the strap for coins in fear of losing the tooth overseas. For now, Baby Tooth needed to be hands free as she reached top speed and slammed into the Pooka's furry chest. The blow did nothing more than earn her a soft chortled. Ruffling her feathers, she took to the air once again, opting to hover in front of Bunny's snout.

"Hey little Sheila," Bunnymund greeted, a warm smile gracing his features. He extended a paw towards the hummingbird fairy and caressed the tiny feathers of her natural headdress. "How're you doing?" Baby Tooth let out a series of angry chirps and saddened whistles. Ducking away from the paw, she darted around the Pooka's head. Her frantic motions began to make him a little nauseous. He never did well with motion, hence his unadulterated loathing towards the sleigh.

His smile feel and a sigh escaped his lungs. "I know, I wasn't much better back there either." Leaning back on his haunches, Bunny collapsed into a sitting position. The small fairy landed on his shoulder, softly cooing into his ear. Taking the hint to continue, Bunny met her mismatched eyes. "Yeah, I knew something sounded fishy. The story…it didn't sound right." He gave a somber laugh. "But none of us bothered to stick up for him. He just…he gave up. He didn't try to defend himself at all. All he did was stand there and nod. To be honest, I think he was shell shocked…" His eyes fell to the ground. "Any of us would have been."

Baby Tooth chirped once and nuzzled against Bunny's cheek. She needed to show him that he'd done his job. Unlike the others, Bunny hadn't forgotten that Jack was still considered a kid. Ok, maybe being eternally eighteen was the cusp of childhood, but it didn't matter with Jack. The winter spirit was a kid in mind, body, and spirit. He wasn't even close to being considered an adult.

Receiving the message, Bunny let himself smile at the display of affection. "I'm assuming the rest of you didn't like the news?" A quick shaking of the head supplied the answer. "Thought so. You all adore Frostbite so much, it's a wonder Tooth doesn't have a mutiny on her hands. Glad she doesn't though. The last thing any of us need right now is more trouble." Turning his attention to the fairy still on his shoulder, he asked, "Now why'd you come to find me? I can see you got what you came for," he gestured slightly at the incisor, "so why'd you come all the way out here?"

Oh, how could she explain this to him in a way he could understand? She needed a new perspective and her mother couldn't provide it? She wanted to visit Jack? She wanted to just talk to him and..and…what was she saying? Drat, she lost it!

She shrugged.

"Well then, you better get yourself home," Bunny stated, making a small move to leave. "I should be heading back to the Warren as well. Can never tell what my googies will do when I'm gone. Sometimes, everything's fine. More often than not, they like to play a Warren-wide version of paint Twister." Baby Tooth chirped rapidly and loudly, shaking her head just as fast. She pushed off the Pooka's shoulder, hovering around his head again. "You do that any more and you'll be seeing carrots," he warned lightly.

No, don't leave! Ugh, she just wanted to know more! She wanted to find out where Jack was and if he could help her find him! Ha! She remembered what she came here for! Oh, the joys of-

Suddenly, a low rumble filled the air. There was a "Fwoop!" sound followed by the most uncomfortable feeling in the world. Both fur and feathers stood on-edge as an invisible shockwave knocked into the stunned spirits. The energy was light and barely made Baby Tooth falter in the air, but something was completely off. It felt as though somebody decided to play a disastrous game of jump rope with nature and then forgot to untangle it when they were done. A shiver crawled up Bunny's spine and the image of a blizzard flitted through his thoughts. Within milliseconds, the feeling was gone and time seemed to catch up again.

"Did-did you feel that?" Bunny asked the mini fairy. Baby Tooth nodded slowly. Where had she felt such raw energy before? The answer hit her faster than she ever thought possible.

She darted in front of Bunny's eyes, twittering madly as she did so. She used her tiny arms to exaggerate her actions. They were first drawn apart at arm's length, drawn together, and then released again. She even added a "whoosh!" for effect. Bunny only got irritated at her actions.

"Not now Baby Tooth," he grumbled, swatting at her gently, "I'm trying to figure out where I've felt that before." Baby Tooth facepalmed. She was jittery, wracking her brain for anything that could convey her message. Looking up, she noticed that the tree they were under had thin branches. As they stretched out, they narrowed out into widths that could barely be considered twig-sized. Perfect!

Hurriedly, she flew to the end of a branch a snapped a rather crooked-looking piece off. Bunny heard the nearly inaudible crack of wood. "What d'you think you're doing?! That is protected wildlife right there (of course, protected by me) and you have no business just destroying it like that!" Geez, Jack was right! Bunny took his plants _very_ seriously.

Zooming back into Bunny's vision, Baby Tooth replicated her actions with her newfound "staff". Her hands were drawn apart once again (one hand holding the staff), slammed together, and brought out again. The Pooka's expression morphed from one of irritation to realization to depp-rooted concern.

"Jack!" he gasped, quickly tapping twice on the ground. Residual magic still hung in the air, allowing Bunny to sniff it out and locate its source. Jack was somewhere in the northernmost part of Maine. "Baby Tooth, go back to the palace!" he managed to shout just before the hole was replaced by a bright red posy.

* * *

Despite his speed, Bunny felt as though he weren't running fast enough. He knew they shouldn't have left Frostbite alone! He was emotionally unstable, reckless, and branded! Why they ever thought it was a good idea to leave him alone was beyond him.

Jack was not only a danger to himself, but was also at the mercy of others. Jack didn't like to fight, especially with other spirits since they had all ignored him for centuries. He just wanted to have friends and a family. Apparently, that was asking the universe of too much!

Other spirits didn't take kindly to anyone who threatened the Guardians. With Jack being the first Guardian to break the oath, well, things wouldn't end well. If he felt winter magic all the way in the outback, Jack had to be completely desperate or not thinking straight…or a mixture of both.

Either way, things wouldn't be pretty. All Bunny could do at the moment was sprint and hope that Jack was in one piece.

He didn't arrive at his destination quickly enough. With a frustrated huff, Bunny opened a tunnel. Stars twinkled through spindly tree branches and a soft breeze wafted through the area. If Bunny didn't smell Jack's magic, it would have been a perfect night to star gaze. Maybe a tad bit too cold, but perfect nonetheless.

Hopping out of his tunnel, the Pooka raise his nose to the breeze. He could smell pine needles and flowers (odd for the time of year). He could smell frozen water and decaying leaves. He smelled sap and some tiny mammals scurrying about and maybe a wolf pack _far_ away from him…

Bunny froze, realization dawning upon him. He couldn't smell Jack. He couldn't hear Jack. He just couldn't _sense_ Jack. That scared Bunny more than he cared to admit, especially after that previous display of power. Maybe he'd been wrong in his tracking. Maybe Jack was farther up north in Canada or perhaps in the lower part of New England.

And then, it was as if the entire world stopped for a minute. Not a real minute, but a metaphorical heart-stopping universe-crushing millisecond. Everything just came to a screeching all-encompassing _halt_. No chickadees twittered, no trees whispered, and not even _the wind_ blew. Everything was still, but far from calm. No, this silence, this crushing quietness, was unnatural and unholy and it put Bunnymund on edge.

And then everything came rushing back.

It was as if a dam had been demolished as the wind raced by the frozen Pooka, stealing his breath as sped by. Bunny stumbled in surprise before seizing up once again. The temperature dropped critically, causing him to suppress a shudder crawling through his body. He could barely feel the aftershock of an enormous magic release. Just as quickly, the sensation of potentially freezing to death vanished and nature returned to its original thrum of post-autumn life. Everything settled back into its own rhythm.

But Bunny realized that this was the disturbance that first drew him out of the Warren. This was where Jack was and, if the enchanted shockwave was anything to go by, he was in trouble.

The zephyr brought a scent with it, one that Bunny wanted to erase from his olfactory sensors. The smell filled highly sensitive nostrils, forcing the warrior to hold back a gag. Eyes widened in disbelief, mind wanting to forget the refulgent odor. But it stayed and created a knot of worry within his stomach.

Noticing a potential ally, the Wind wisped around the Pooka's large ears. It tried talking to the Guardian, ignoring the fact that only its rider could understand the cryptic language of the breeze. Realizing that explanations would take too long, the Wind created an air stream. Woven through various trees (temperates and conifers alike), the current served as a path for Bunny to follow. Wind wished it didn't need to carry the heavy reek of coppery blood, but it had to save its family. They'd been together for centuries. It wasn't ending because some idiotic spirits decided to throw a poorly directed hissy fit.

Without hesitation, Bunny bounded across the hardened earth of the forest, darting to and fro as he avoided colliding with rough tree bark. As the smell of blood became stronger, he picked up speed. Brown blurs passed by his peripheral vision as a blue splotch came into view. Careening to a stop, Bunny skidded across the disturbed soil in front of the bleary-eyed teen. With only one quick glance over the boy's body, Bunny's heart sank. Why did everything terrible have to happen to Jack? It wasn't fair, it just wasn't _fair_.

Bunny's ear lowered as he kneeled closer to the prone child. Shaking paws were guided towards burgundy-stained hair, carefully cradling the head it belonged to. Jack's eyes glanced up to meet pure green irises, a trickle of blood running out of his mouth and down his chin.

"…Bunny?" he stuttered. His breathing began to hitch in fear and complete disbelief. Could…could Bunny really be here, trying to comfort him? Did Bunny truly care about what happened to him now, now after he killed a kid? Was…was he still considered part of the Pooka's family?

Was there still hope?

Bunny's posture sunk as he watched so many emotions flicker across the eternally youthful face. Nobody deserved this. Anger boiled inside of him at the injustice of the universe. A deep longing replaced rage moments later. He wanted to right the wrongs done to the benevolent mischief maker. He wanted to fix what had been done. Adjusting his grip on the child, he promised to never let go of Jack. He'd never let Jack go back to being the spirit forever alone in the world. He would always be there for him like any and every older brother to a younger brother.

As long as there was hope, he would always stand by the kid. Always.

"Jack…" he started, trying to reign in his emotions. "What have we done?"

* * *

**A/N: Evil cliffhangers are evil. :) Dear MiM, I am such a troll! Yes, next chapter focuses on what happened to Jack between the (somewhat) joint nightmare and Bunny finding him. It's not going to be pretty. The Jack Frost Torture is about to become **_**very**_** physical.**

**Anyways, remember that thing I said last chapter? You know, the whole sad ending thing? Apparently, quite a few people were not on board with that idea so I'm giving you the chance to choose your ending. There's a poll on my profile, so I want you guys to vote on how you want this story to end. Please do because I've been getting mixed answers and I really need some more input on this!**

**Thanks for reading, favoriting, following, and reviewing! :D**


	5. Chapter 5

A shriveled and browned leaf twitched on its perch. Without its brethren, it produced no significant sound when hit with a light zephyr. Within close proximity, one could hear its rattles and scratches as equally dried end rubbed against one another. It hung in the air, suspended by a single filament composed of desiccated plant material. It jangled and convulsed, whipped violently by a stronger breeze. It was nothing more than deadweight on a sleeping tree's branches.

In a final gust of air, the leaf snapped from its temporary post above the forest. Like the others of its kind, it would fall and land on the cold, hardened ground. Nobody would notice a tree losing one more leaf. After all, it was winter. But a few scatterings of deceased leaves could be seen on the branches, clinging onto spindly wood in hopes of surviving until spring. That was their goal: to survive.

But survival is not tantamount to living. To leaves, surviving was feeling the sun hit chloroplasts. Light drove production of vital organic molecules, thus fueling the rest of the organism. Weaker leaves dropped to the ground early on in the season. They did not have the capabilities to survive and were not needed for everyone else to continue their existence. Such a small amount was lost. Could it be considered a loss at all? Perhaps it could, that is, in terms of living.

The leaves that dropped the fastest were the ones with the most spirit. They were buoyant, almost weightless in the Wind. They held no burdens and simply lived. Survival was second nature and allowed them to focus on the wonders of the world. Why was the sun so bright? How close could they get to their life source? Would they get the opportunity to climb to the highest branch, become closer to the star than any other dared?

They acted like children because they were children. The Wind made it a priority to cajole them into a playful game of swaying and swishing. It loved to hear the serious leaves grumble in protest as it hit them with a breeze. The mischievous ones, the leaves with heart, would laugh and cheer as they rode current after current. It was like surfing and the Wind was the water. If the trees complained, they all earned bonus points.

But then the time would come when the laughter abruptly stopped.

The signal was inaudible among humans, yet the Wind knew it so well. There would be an all-consuming snap that resonated throughout the tree. The adult leaves would quit their work in a moment of confusion. The children would notice the silence and fall to it themselves. They were simple creatures and knew nothing of loss and death. But that moment always came when the children were forced to grow up. Whether it was out of fear or shock, the Wind would never know the answer. The only thing they could do was watch as one of their own, fresh from the bud, disconnected from its root and fell.

A life was cut short. The dot of green would sway and descend; taking its final surf on the currents it knew and loved. The second it touched down on soft grass, the leaves burst out of their stillness. Gone were the children that once happily played in the Wind. The innocence and vivacious younglings became enraptured in work. They no longer wished to enjoy the Wind's company. The vile force of nature had taken one of their own. How could they interact with such a horrendous being?

At first, the Wind had been offended. It would violently tussle the once-considered friends, cause the entire tree to quake under its power. The leaves would spout curses at the Wind, but the Wind didn't care. A few insignificant leaves couldn't tell it what to do!

Yet the realization came when, one after another, the leaves began to fall. The tree was more annoyed than anything. The leaves were beside themselves with anger. The Wind was completely horrified. Why did it go so far? Didn't it know when to stop? _I was just trying to play because this is not Jack's season_.

The blame would never last. As soon as the leaves turned, they knew their time was up. The survival they had cherished months before was nothing more than a fleeting memory. In their old age, they'd apologize and beg the Wind for one more ride. Every year, the Wind always debated on whether or not to indulge their wishes. These were the same beings that called it out, yes? They were the ones wanting the Wind to leave forever, to never feel the caress of a zephyr or the ferocity of a stormy airstream. Why should the Wind comply? The Wind listens to nobody.

But then the Wind would remember Jack, the one that was always there. And it always made the same decision.

Much like Jack, the Wind made it a priority to spread fun and laughter. Blurs of yellows, oranges, and reds rode the drafts of autumn, giggling as they surfed on the air currents. When they came lose, they no longer cussed and spat. Instead, they embraced life for what it was. They used the last zephyr to, not survive, but live. Even as they grew wrinkled and crumbled into dust, they would always remember their final ride on the Wind.

However, there were always the stubborn ones that held on too long. Those leaves were filled with spite and malice, rejecting change as though it were the plague. They clung to their branches, shouted at the Wind to go away and never come back. Well, if the Wind did that then it wouldn't be doing its job.

Ignoring every jibe and criticism, the Wind always went after those stubborn brown masses with determination and pure annoyance. The unappreciative, elitist little things would plague the Earth no longer. But over the years, the Wind learned a few things. It learned to leave the dying to their fates. Those leaves were so intent on surviving past everyone else that they lost sight of the world. They refused to go even after their time was long used up. The Wind didn't know whether to laugh at their ignorance or to pity their states. It shared its sentiments with Jack. The boy took matters into his own hands (literally) by picking each offending dead leaf off of its branch and crumpling them in a closed fist. He'd offer a cheeky smile and the response of "Hey, someone's gotta do it!"

There were always ones that managed to stay (even after Jack the Leaf Slayer caught sight of them). The ones that escaped detection were the ones with no life at all. At least the survival maniacs were quite verbal (and offensive). These poor children were ones who had given up. They stayed on their perch longer than they wanted to. Their strong hold on the tree, as involuntary as it was, prevented them from egress. They wanted to join their brethren on the ground, wanted to become one with Mother Nature again, but couldn't.

Those were the ones like Jack.

As the shadows grew longer, Jack grew smaller. Staff gripped with pure white knuckles, the teen had curled his body around the artifact. Frost spread at least three meters out, the fern-like patterns crawling up surrounding trunks and painting them in ethereal designs. The Wind had tried for hours to rouse the boy, but every attempt was in vain. No matter how hard of a gust it sent towards its child, the nightmare sand would not dispatch. The boy only woke once after the Sandman had come, only to cry himself asleep once more.

The Wind could only think of the lost leaves positioned high up in the branches of the trees. Jack was a child and life was leaving him little by little. How much longer until he became like those lost little spirits? How much longer until he too shriveled up into nothing? Would he become so frail that he'd fall apart in the breeze? The Wind worriedly mused on its questions for hours, barely noticing as the sun travelled across the skies.

Now, the sun was nearing the horizon. A light pink hue was complemented by soft reds and oranges. The star itself had taken on a blinding ginger tint, indicating that night was fast approaching. Jack still hadn't stirred, only mumbling incoherently to himself as the last of the sun's rays faded away to nothing.

He was so young and so alone. Would he try to stay connected to the Guardians and crumble? No. The Wind had a nagging suspicion that its charge's fate would be much more dismal.

Jack was like those youthful, kindhearted leaves. In the midst of mirth and belonging, he had fallen from his perch and watched as the world didn't seem to care. He was falling now, growing ever closer to the earth as gravity reeled him in. He was fighting that mighty force of nature, struggling to remain above the ground that called out to him in every way possible. To fight gravity was to fight a losing battle. There was only one outcome to this toil: Jack would land.

It's easy to fall. It's painful to land. And when nearly every force was working against you, the landing becomes unbearable. The grounded always lost everything. They knew not of freedom and dreams. They were the closest to reality and one step away from breaking. Sometimes, a head in the clouds was not necessarily a bad thing.

Dreams created a goal, creativity once unknown to its beholder. Reveries inspired minds once believed to be dead. Flying was complete freedom from the ground below. In the protective hold of the Wind, Jack could rid himself of the burdens he carried. He could discard the baggage and badgering voices within himself. He could remember what it was like to have a friend (because he did make some during the three centuries before the Guardians). His flights served as reminders that being on your own wasn't the worst fate in the world. But when he touched down to the earth again, he would realize that he wouldn't have anyone to go back to. He hadn't missed communicating with others or interactions. No, he had always missed a family. He never had a home to return to. In those moments of brutal clarity, Jack knew he was alone.

And just as those initial years had predicted, he would remain that way.

A traitor, a vagabond, he would continue existence in his solitude. Nobody would lend a helping hand lest they be associated with loathed recluse. Many may seek him out in spite. Nobody would bat an eye at the spirit's suffering and no one would care. Jack's greatest fears were becoming a reality. It wasn't about belief anymore, it was about being known.

The wayward winter spirit had friends. There was the forest sprite and the autumn spirit. There was the Wind and a dryad here or there. There were grand dragons and the river spirits. Every (and any) mythology contributed to their world and Jack had met at least one spirit from every mythos and knew the names of every one.

What would they think of him now? He was never intimately close with any of them, but they were still good friends. They didn't know of the others secrets, but valiantly upheld their end of the friendship. They helped each other through hardships, yet never went beyond the line between being a companion and being a relative.

In that sense, he was alone. The sequestering from what he so dearly needed nearly drove him insane. He found sanctuary in the Wind, in flight, and the mad thoughts of life lessened from resounding howls to low murmurs. The acquaintances he had helped to diminish the hole in his heart, that emptiness never gaining enough strength to overcome his willpower.

But how would he react when his associates turn on him? The Wind was not ignorant, it knew this would happen. It doubted that anyone would show compassion or understanding. Maybe some of the wiser spirits would question the crime and seek out answers, but nobody would be coming to actually help the boy. With a low gust, the Wind sighed and ruffled its charge's hair. What would become of its fragile little leaf?

Unlike the times before, Jack's eyelids fluttered. His mouth felt impossibly dry and his head felt far too heavy. Despite the overwhelming amount of sleep he got, he did not feel rested in the slightest. Every bone in his body resonated with sorrow and hopelessness as reality made itself known to his waking mind.

Jamie was dead.

The Guardians abandoned him.

Jack didn't want to wake up.

But sleep also gave him nightmares. It was only a matter of which horror was the lesser of two evils. Would he rather relive Jamie's gruesome death or face its aftermath?

Limbs groaned in protest as Jack stretched his body. Using both his staff and the tree for support, he shakily climbed to his feet.

Crap, his legs fell asleep.

Stumbling, Jack positioned his shoulder against the conifer. He struggled to remain upright as pins and needles dug into his legs. They tingled uncomfortably, sending waves of a strange type of agony through the appendages. He focused on the weird sensation, willing it to stop so he could just move and fly away. He desperately wanted to run, but found himself collapsed against a tree. It was humiliating (and slightly infuriating) at best.

But the feeling also served to numb him. He could carry on as he usually did, right? It was a week until Christmas and the Northern Hemisphere would soon be in high demand for snow. He would do his job as always, instigate snowball fights from the sidelines, and freeze someone's tongue to a pole…

And never have the opportunity to watch Santoff Claussen go into Christmas overtime.

He'd never be able to see Phil again or his fellow mischief-makers. He'd never see Baby Tooth unless their paths crossed during the night. He'd never have the chance to see Sandy's grand dreamsand vessel sail elegantly through the clouds. He'd never help rebuild the springtime holiday he'd inadvertently ruined or bridge the gap between him and Bunny. He'd never experience that feeling of belonging, of having a true home. Even through his carefully composed apathy, the thought stung his heart and made it cry out in pain. He didn't want to be alone again…but if this was the price he'd pay for murdering a child, so be it. He'd never deserved his Guardianship anyways, right?

_Right?_

Shaking off the last of his lethargy, the winter spirit settled for walking around the forest. The Wind remained by his side, loyal until the day it would disappear from the Earth. With its playful demeanor, it managed to coax a sad smile out of the disheartened teen.

"Don't worry," he told the ancient being. "I'm not going anywhere."

It was the truth. As horrible as things were, Jack knew that he did not want to die. Could he even die again? Whatever the answer was, he wasn't interested. How would he benefit from death? There were still things to live for, right? He still had a job to do and the world didn't stop for him. It never had before, so why would it now? Time stopped for nobody, spirit or mortal.

But was continuing his existence in any way selfish? If he was a threat, would his death protect others from what he could potentially unleash upon the world? He'd never experimented (out of fear), but Jack knew he had the power to send the world into another ice age. If he lost control due to his mental issues and insecurities about the past, would he endanger the entire world? It scared him that he didn't know the answer.

Hastily, he shook his head. No, death was not an option in this situation. He'd live, only to do his job and nothing more. The Southern Hemisphere hardly needed snow. Maybe he could hole up in Antarctica for half of the year and direct snowstorms from a cave. He could live in Antarctica and then he'd be out of everyone's way and still do what he was meant for. But where was the fun in that?

Then again, he didn't really embody fun anymore. The privilege was stripped from him.

Shouldn't he feel outraged?

No, because he deserved it.

But…it wasn't really his fault…

No, it was because he let Pitch get to him and then all this crap happened and-

"And now I'm idly pacing around a clearing," Jack noted aloud. "Great," he sighed, running a hand through his hair, "I can check off 'Complete Insanity' from my list of reasons why I'm so screwed up. And here I am, alone, in a clearing…talking to myself." He huffed. "There's nothing new with that." He laughed. "And I don't have a clue for what I'm supposed to do now." He looked up at the moon. "You gave me a purpose and then you let me throw it all away! Why? Why did this happen and why didn't you try to stop it?" A moonbeam nearly hit his face, but Jack turned away at the last second. "Never mind, don't answer. After all, it's just me, right? It's just Jack Frost. He doesn't need anyone to talk to because he has soooo many friends. They probably all hate me. I know I do." He stopped pacing, staff falling limply to his side as the melancholy overtook his mind. "…So now, nobody wants to see me and the ones who may want to can't." The emptiness was threatening to engulf his soul, but he pushed it down hastily. "But…I don't want to die. Not yet…not when I feel like-like there's more that needs to be done."

Silence followed, the Wind embracing Jack in a limbless hug. It whispered and sang sweet nothings to him, trying to alleviate his tumultuous thoughts. It feared and loved, just as any human did. Jack subconsciously nuzzled back, a hand outstretched to pet the invisible companion. "You're always there and you'll always be there, right?" To anyone else, his question would have been met with silence. But the Wind speaks a language of its own, completely understood by its winter spirit.

"Jack?" The moment was broken. The teen spun on his heel, staff held out defensively at the trees lining the clearing. The wood glowed blue in warning, illuminating a small patch of the ground around him. Turning to the left and right, his eyes darted across the blackened branches of the surrounding trees. Moonlight came down from above, chasing the darkness away from the startled teen. Adjusting the grip on his staff, Jack swallowed his fear.

"Who's there?" he shouted to the inanimate beings. The Wind ruffled his hair and curled around him protectively. It hissed at whatever dared to threaten its child.

The creak of a stiff branch reached the teens ears. The snap of a twig followed, originating from the opposite direction of the first disturbance. Jack paced and spun lightly on his toes, focusing on what was around him. The trees offered him no hints and hid the secrets within the night's darkness. The shadows hung over the branches like window shades, hiding their rooms from his view. He couldn't see anything within the tree line. Whatever was out there was taking cover in the shadows. Then again, there could be absolutely nothing hiding in the forest. He was probably just overreacting. He was a pariah, why would anyone want to find him now?

Jack stiffened as a shadow descended from a branch. Raising his staff in defense, he grimaced. "Show yourself, now," he hissed. The figure appeared to nod before stepping forward.

It was a man of Middle Eastern descent. He couldn't be a day over thirty and was dressed modestly in light brown Bedouin pants, a white shirt, and a flowing cloak. The tall figure held up his hands in a pacifying manner. "Jackson, you have no need to fear me," a soothing, deep voice said. "I have no reason to harm you. I only wish to talk." The man continued stepping further into the moonlight, revealing soft brown eyes. He had a short brown beard and slightly messy brown hair. Unlike the other spirits Jack had last seen, he wore a small smile. "Please boy, hear me out."

The teen relaxed, the end of the shepherd's crook firmly planted on the ground. Frost extended tentatively from the point of impact, faintly giving the ground an icy coat. Jack couldn't bring himself to talk to the older spirit, cobalt eyes betraying otherwise stoic features. He was frightened, but was willing to stand his ground if the other decided to attack. It was highly unlikely. This spirit was a peaceful one and one Jack had known for at least fifty years.

"Elijah," he managed to say. He struggled to keep his voice steady while maintaining his composure. "What are you doing here? Isn't it a little cold for your tastes?" The question was far from scathing. The teen was simply curious.

Elijah laughed heartily, vaguely reminding Jack of North whenever he was told to lay off the cookies. "My dear boy," the elder replied, "Does a man need a reason to visit an accomplice?" Before Jack could answer, he waved off his own question. Shaking his head, he became serious. "Word travels fast amongst our world." Their eyes met. "I simply want answers, nothing more. It is not my place to judge."

"Oh, I see," Jack said coldly. "You just want details so you can go on your merry way and tell others about how bad of a person I am. Well, you can forget it." _I used to consider you a friend._

The man shook his head. "No Jack, I would never do that to another being. Something about your tale does not feel right. I cannot describe what it is, but it does not sound completely plausible." He took a few steps towards the boy. Jack backed up out of reflex. Upon seeing the action, Elijah halted his advances and allowed the spirit his space. "Please understand that I want information, not to spread it, but to solve a puzzle." Chocolate eyes caught sight of marred skin. "They act rashly," he commented. "They never learn from their mistakes. I hope this is not one of them. If so, it would bring more pain and suffering to all of you." Before Jack could fully process the prophet's words, a loud thud filled the air. Whirling around to face the source of the interruption, Jack came face to face with a fairly young Chinese monk.

"Hey Eli," he greeted, "I told you to wait up! In case you didn't notice, I don't have a magical cloak of teleportation!" His equally russet eyes fell on the young winter spirit. "Ah, Jack Frost, my fellow mischief-maker, how goes it?" His friendly query was met with silence. "I know, rhetorical question and completely uncalled for. Seriously, I apologize for that lapse in judgment." The wayward monk's robes swayed as he bowed in respect. "I'm assuming Eli here caught you up on our visit, correct?"

"Well, he so conveniently forgot to mention that you'd be dropping by," Jack snapped back. His snark was met with uproarious laughter.

"That he would kid, that he would!" the monk chortled.

"Are you quite done yet, Ji Gong?" Elijah asked irritably.

"Yeah, I'm done."

"Good." He turned back to Jack, Ji Gong now standing beside him. "Jack, we have come to discover the truth. As I-"

Before the man could finish, an arrow whizzed by Jack's ear and imbedded itself in the bark behind him. Strong, thick vines burst from the shadows and pinned the two older spirits against the trees. Jack's heart skipped a beat as two more silhouettes became known to the group. One was of a young female and the other of a strong male. As they too stepped into the light, Jack's heart dropped.

"Johnny…Aisling…" he whispered. He nearly dropped his staff in shock. These two…they were his friends…are his friends? By the looks on their faces, they did not appear to be pleased with him.

Aisling strode up to Jack, stopping when they were two feet away. Tears were gathering in the corners of her bright green eyes, hands clenched into small fists. A breeze ran through her auburn hair and caused the leaf-green skirt of her dress to billow with it. The straps of her brown leather gladiator sandals came up to her calves and the white top of her dress glowed in the night. Despite her rather frail appearance, barely contained emotions simmered under the surface. She was going to lash out and the results weren't going to be pretty.

Johnny Appleseed joined her seconds later. The older male was a good head taller than Jack and wore an expression of outrage. Fairly toned arm muscles peaked from underneath a red plaid shirt. He wore loose jeans and work boots. A bow lay in his hand and the strap of a quiver was visible across his chest. Another strap crisscrossed over his torso, attached to a bag carrying seeds of various plants.

"Jack," Johnny addressed, hazel eyes blazing with rage, "You have committed the worst taboo." Before he could continue, the forest nymph advanced on the bewildered winter spirit. Her vermillion eyes flashed with betrayal and hurt.

"We were friends Jack!" Aisling exclaimed, her Irish brogue prominent. She drew a small dagger from her waistband. The blade was no more than five inches in length, but it glinted menacingly in the moonlight. Clouds were beginning to surround the area, overshadowing the comforting beams of the orb in the sky. The biting metal of the weapon still reflected what little light it could. In that moment, Jack knew they were no longer companions. It hurt more than the attack.

Jack backed away from the enraged sprite, staff and hands up in a pacifying manner. "Aisling, I'm so sorry," he said softly. "Please, I-I don't know what to do. Look at this." He lifted his right hand, the backside facing Aisling. The extensive detailed brand was harsh against his pale, flaking skin. Dried blood was evident on the still healing wound as were the words forever engraved on his skin. Aisling recoiled, drawing away with a small hiss. "They've already branded me and condemned me and I agreed to everything. I felt every one of those kids stop believing in me. They gave me the choice to run and I stayed. Do you know why?" He didn't give her the chance to answer. "I felt like I deserved it. Jamie was my best friend, my first believer, and I killed him." Green eyes darted to the single tear that slipped from Jack's cobalt eyes. "I killed him because I wasn't strong enough to protect him from myself. I know that I'm not a Guardian and I know that I'm dangerous. Please Aisling, leave while you still can. I don't know what I'll do next. I don't want to hurt you."

Aisling's grip on her blade faltered. "Jack, I was so happy when you became a Guardian," she started softly. "I was so proud of you...what happened?" Disappointment and sadness were prominent on her features. "I know you're a kind spirit, even after so many ignored you for all those years. What compelled you to do this? Word has been flying throughout our world and so many want to cause you harm. I'm sorry I almost let anger control my actions, but I just don't understand why."

"It's because he's winter!" Johnny cut in, walking up next to Aisling. "Winter kills people. The season is ruthless! I've watched families freeze to death because of him. I used to think that he never meant to hurt all those people and when he became a Guardian, I realized that I was wrong. But then he goes and kills, not only a kid, but his best friend. I don't want a guy like that around! Look at this Aisling!" The older male grasped the teen's hand. Ignoring Jack's whimper of pain, Johnny poked the burn. "He's a traitor to our kind! I don't know about you, but I don't take well to traitors!" He threw Jack's hand away, as if it were diseased. He watched coldly as Jack pulled the extremity close to his chest. Specks of blood were beginning to ooze out of the wound again and the horrible burning sensation was coming back full-force.

Jack looked at Aisling pleadingly, willing her to see reason. It was a lost cause. He could already see Johnny's words driving a stake into her heart, corrupting her thoughts again. That feeling of betrayal made its way into her eyes as she tightened her grip on her weapon. "Jack," she said sternly but quietly. "What you did...it was unforgivable." She met his eyes, tears shimmering in the weak light of the moon. Clouds passed overhead and cast her face in shadows. "I...I can't do this!" She launched herself at Jack, slashing at him with her dagger. The edge grazed his cheek and blood bubbled to the surface. A hand reached up to the afflicted area, more in shock than in pain. Johnny was smug and Jack wanted nothing more than to wipe that look off of his face.

"That's it Aisling, just let it out," the autumnal spirit cooed. "He's not worth your kindness."

"But...we are friends," she replied, voice no more than a whisper. Johnny's hand wrapped around hers, steadying the shaking appendage. His grasp was soft yet firm, gaining control over the dagger's movements. He leaned over the small forest sprite, running a free hand through her auburn hair.

"Do you really want to be friends with a murderer?" he whispered into her ear. "Remember why we came here." Jack's eyes widened as Aisling's torn expression morphed into one of complete apathy.

"To give the justice he deserves..." she murmured. Even under Johnny's hand, Jack could see the forest sprite tighten her hold on the weapon. She was steeling herself for either the world's biggest mistake or completely justifiable punishment. Jack didn't know which one he truly deserved.

"Aisling, please just walk away." Jack's voice trembled as he backed into a tree. His hands strained to find a good position on his staff. He didn't want to hurt them, but the self-preserving part of his brain told him to defend himself. He didn't want to come off as threatening, yet he wasn't sure if he could emotionally take the beating the two spirits were going to dole out.

The faerie walked closer until the tip of Jack's shepherd's crook lay on her bosom. Her breath hitched at the contact as frost delicately crawled across her torso. The elegant pattern continued to creep along her clothes, decorating it in the shimmering substance. Had it been under different circumstances, both Johnny and Jack would have admitted that she looked mesmerizing. But the blade clenched tightly in her fist ruined the aestheticism of the image. Auburn hair ghosted over slightly glazed emerald eyes. Terrified cerulean briefly met with listless jade, making any emotional interaction ephemeral. The moment of reason was lost as anguish claimed the spirits' hearts.

With a cry, she launched herself forwards. With the hilt of her blade, she struck Jack across the jaw. The winter spirit bit his tongue, blood welling up inside of his mouth. He stumbled to the side, still managing to remain upright. In that time, Johnny drew his bow and released an arrow. The tip clipped Jack's shoulder, the force of the projectile pinning his hoodie to a tree. Gently pushing Aisling aside, Johnny leaned into Jack's face.

"We were friends once Jack, but not anymore," he hissed. Jack tried to squirm away, but the older spirit held his jaw in place. "We are acting as the judges for this." Jack whimpered as Johnny harshly poked his still healing burn. "A dead child surrounded with a warning of a pariah…you deserve worse than that!" He struck Jack's cheek and the teen's head was whipped to the side. He punched and kicked, getting a few cries out of the boy. The two trapped spirits across the clearing were shouting in protest, desperately trying to escape from the forest sprite's vines. Every attempt was in vain as neither spirit carried a weapon on them. Both were well versed in hand-to-hand combat, relying on that skill instead of a conduit or bludgeon.

The winter spirit screamed when a blade pierced his left shoulder. Looking to the abused side, he was met with Aisling's fury. Tears were falling from both of their eyes, yet neither tried to console the other. None of them noticed that Jack had not dropped his staff in the scuffle or realized that the wood was glowing.

Jack stopped registering the harsh blows after the dagger cut across his side. His previously known friends were only doing what they believed was right. What could he possibly do to stop them when, within his heart, he truly agreed with him? The abuse continued as his bones creaked in protest and bruises littered his body. Blood began to collect on wrinkled brown leaves as the clouds cast everything in shadows. As the last of the moon's light disappeared, Jack's mind began to rebel. Why did he have to endure this? Hadn't he suffered enough already? Why weren't Elijah and Ji Gong trying to stop Johnny and Aisling?

Anger boiled to the surface as Jack clenched his eyes shut. He could feel something moving through his body, a powerful energy had awakened from its slumber. He had a choice, use it or ignore it.

Did he want these spirits to leave him be?

Yes.

It was all the confirmation his frazzled mind needed.

With a pained scream, a great force expelled itself from Jack's body. He shuddered and cried as ice and snow whipped around him, cutting across his body in their ferocity. He didn't know what was happening with the other spirits. He only knew that he was in _so much agony_ and releasing his powers was not making him feel better. But he couldn't stop. Everything began to blur and Jack begged for it to stop. His mind was beginning to work again and oh dear MiM, _what had he done?_

Over the screeching winds, he could here Aisling cry out in pain as shards of ice struck her. He heard Johnny shouting to her and the noise stopped. They had left.

Just as quickly as it began, Jack's power cut out. The arrow holding him to the tree had dislodged in the wintery onslaught. Nothing held Jack upright and he simply collapsed on the frost-covered ground. The ice continued to spiderweb outwards despite the lull in activity. Jack's breathing was harsh and ragged, matching pace and tone with the Wind. Both were exhausted.

In the silence, he could hear Elijah and Ji Gong escaping from their bindings and fleeing. Had he still been clouded with indignation, he would have called the two cowards. Now, however, he knew that they were trying to recruit more help. They still believed in him. They weren't scared of him. They wanted his side of the story.

Unlike the Guardians.

Why hadn't they questioned the situation? Maybe…maybe this was all some elaborate trick to make his life miserable and both he and the Guardians fell for it. He gave a crazed giggle which quickly gave way to angry grunts.

What if he had been set up?

The Guardians just _threw him away_. How could they? They promised to be there for him. Well, where the hell were they now?!

His anger ignited a dying ember and he was screaming again. Ice blasted across the clearing, coating the area in frost and snow. Trees swayed in the Wind, groaning in protest at the force of the attack. Jack just screamed, releasing his anguish and fury in wave after wave of magic. He was exhausting himself beyond his limits, but he didn't care. If he died now, would anyone care? No.

But he didn't want to die, right?

He wasn't so sure now.

Once again, the onslaught abruptly stopped. Jack panted from the exertion, struggling to keep his eyes open. The night was closing in, the darkness dotting his vision and thoughts. He could only ask why. Why did these things happen to him? Why was it always to him? Why, why, why?

Every part of him ached. His shoulder, side, and hand burned. His ribs creaked in protest. The back of his neck was just so very irritating and _couldn't it get the picture that he was in no condition to try and scratch it? _His head was buzzing, muffling the rise and fall of paw prints darting across the ground. He was incoherent, ignorant to the large Pooka staring at his downed form. He didn't care anymore. He just couldn't bring himself to care.

Would he be happy if he died?

No, probably not.

Would he fight it?

…No…probably not.

It was a surprise when he felt his body being lifted and strong appendages holding him close. It felt nice and for once, he felt _safe._

A thick Australian accent met his ears and he immediately knew who it was.

"…Bunny?" he managed to whisper. To be honest, he didn't know whether to be delighted or pissed. He could care less about what Bunnymund was rambling on about, only focusing on the fact that _he was there_. Just this once, maybe he could take comfort in that.

But was he willing to open himself up for disappointment again?

"Jack," the voice rang clearly. "What have we done?" Jack's mind supplied the answer far too quickly.

_Everything…and nothing at all._

* * *

**A/N: Warning! Long A/N coming up! Feel free to ignore.**

**I'm sorry, I can't help but feel that this fell short (despite the length). :3 I don't think I like this chapter that much...**

***passes out tissues* Yes, I know you need them now. Also, I'll be at Disney until April 1****st****, so I won't be able to reply to reviews for a while. :3**

**And this was my shameless Jack torture chapter. You see? I think I warned you somewhere that this would start getting generic. If I offended anyone with the spirits I used, tell me. I'm sorry if I did and please know that it was not my intent. I was just trying to think of different ones/avoid creating OCs. If you're interested in learning about the four spirits I used, keep on reading. If not, thank you so very much for the favorites, follows, and wonderful reviews.**

**Ji Gong: From Chinese folklore. He was a Buddhist monk. He kinda got kicked out of his monastery for his mischievous actions, but was very compassionate towards people. When he died, he was granted mystical powers and became a folk hero.**

**Elijah: A prophet, prominent in Judaism around Passover. My fellow Jews, happy Passover! He usually dresses as a poor beggar and tests a person's kindness. In the stories, Elijah is driven away by the rich and welcomed by the poor. He swaps their circumstances after his visits, wanting to reward the ones with kind hearts and let the others experience hardship for a bit.**

**Aisling: Inspired by the character of the same name in **_**The Secret of Kells**_**. If you haven't seen that movie, go watch it. It's really good. An Aisling is an Irish forest spirit (not one defined spirit). Originally, she was going to be my version of a fall spirit (Autumn Harvest), but Johnny filled that role.**

**Johnny Appleseed: Included one American folk figure. I hope you all know who he is/have heard of him. I decided to make him the spirit of autumn.**


	6. AUTHOR'S NOTE (I'M SORRY!)

Hey guys. Oh dear MiM, I'm so sorry I'm taking so long. I just wanted to reassure you that yes, I am continuing the fic. No, I will not abandon this. Yes, consider this a temporary hiatus. By temporary, I mean really tiny. I'm going to try to get a chapter up this Friday, but that is highly unlikely. I've got AP exams (only one per week, thank goodness) from now until the 22nd. However, I only need to cram for two since Music Theory is pretty easy for me.

You should expect an update next Friday where there will be Bunny/Jack bromance, possibly a cameo from Elijah and Ji Gong, and a somewhat dirty joke from camp (because this story needs the awkward comic relief DESPERATELY).

Since this is just an A/N, I'm going to put out my warning now (I'll repeat it again when I replace this with the real chapter): this is the point of no return. After the next two chapters (this one and the next one), the fluff fest is going to nosedive into some of the most depressing paragraphs you've ever read. The ending, which will be somewhat optimistic, will provide you with more of a happy outlook than a solid happy finale. If you are a pessimist, this story will be a tragedy. If you're an optimist, you get that glimmer of hope for the future.

If you've had a hard time handling the story, your tale ends at Chapter 7. I won't be offended if anyone decides to stop reading because this is an intense story. In fact, it's my most emotionally taxing fanfic. I've never written one where people cry every chapter. So, if you've cried every chapter and have had your heart broken five times, then stop after Chapter 7.

Thank you for all of the reviews, favorites, and follows. This story is turning out to be one of my most successful and most well-written fanfic of all time. Considering it's me, that's not too hard to beat. So thank you so much for all of the support and tears, I thrive off of them. Also, thank you lovely guests for dropping a review (even if it's nothing more than "UPDATE!"). I'm sorry I can't reply to every one of your reviews (would take up way too much space), but please know that I sincerely appreciate everything you have to say.

I know I've talked to a few of you about this, but I feel like I owe this to every reader. Ready for your epiphany?

You can figure out what really happened between Tooth, Jack, and Pitch.

I've left breadcrumbs throughout the five chapters. They're small and seemingly in there for no purpose/could be considered throw away comments, but they play a huge role. Some of you have figured it out and some of you have no clue. I won't confirm/deny any claims right now (Jamie's death, Jack's abandonment, Pitch's role, etc.), just know that you can piece together the whole story: right here, right now.

Well, that's all I've got. I could go on and explain why I disappeared off the face of the earth for all of April, but that's a story for another day. Thank you so much and I'm so sorry for taking this long. Just hang in there for one more week and, I promise, you will get your fluffy bromance time.

Good night everybody. May the Guardians be with you. ;)


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